©6e 

YANKEE  IN  QUEBEC 


BY 

ANSON   A.    CARD 

author  of 

My  Feiend  Bill 

National  Hymn  to  the  Flag 

The  Cuban  Battle  Hymn 

Some  Deed  of  Worth 

Etc.,  Etc. 


Published  by 
THE  EMERSON  PRESS 

149  Broadway,  New  York 

ANSON  A.   GARD 

Quebec  and  Montreal 

and 

London,  England 


DEDICATED 

TO 

THE  OTHER  YANKEES 

who  may  follow  my  footsteps  t7ito  that  dearest^ 

quaintest,  most  picturesque,  most — 

well  get  Webster  and  copy 

them  all  in — for  they 

all  belong 

TO    QUEBEC, 

where  I  had  the  most  delightful  visit  of 
my  life,  in  the  Summer  of  iQoi . 


Registeeed  in  confoimity  with  Act  of  the  Parliament  of 
Canada,  in  the  year  1901,  by  Anson  A.  Gakd,  in  the 
office  of  the  Minister  of  Agriculture  at  Ottawa. 


Tnfroduction 


It  is  not  my  purpose  to  give  the  history  of 
Quebec,  Sir  James  M.  LeMoine,  the  Grand  Old 
Man  of  the  Dominion,  has  done  that  too  well  to 
leave  anything  to  say  ;  neither  is  it  my  purpose 
to  write  a  guide  book,  Frank  Carrel,  the  able 
editor  of  the  Telegraph,  and  E.  T.  D.  Chambers, 
whose  literary  writings  are  well  known  in  the 
States,  have  supplied  this  want. 

I  would  simply  have  you  use  my  eyes, 
through  which  to  see  one  of  the  most  pictur- 
esque old  cities  in  the  Western  World.  I  said 
"  one  of  " — unnecessary  words,  take  them  away, 
they  are  out  of  place,  when  speaking  of  Quebec. 

I  may  not  in  this  volume  follow  the  true  lines 
of  literature.  I  will  try  not  to  do  so  at  least. 
So  dear  reader  if  you  find  any  of  the  set  rules 
5 


Inttodudion. 

broken,   just   credit  me   up   with   that  much,   if 
nothing  more. 

My  object  will  have  been  attained,  if  I  can 
produce  a  little  volume,  whose  reading,  by  my 
countrymen,  will  turn  the  tourist  toward  this 
delightful  old  city,  knowing  full  well  that  every 
one  so  influenced  will  ever  thank  me  for 

"  The  Yankee  in  Quebec." 


Cbe  Vankee  in  Quebec 


He  wasn't  born  in  Kentucky,  neither  was  he 
old  enough  to  have  been  in  the  war,  yet  we 
always  called  him  "  Colonel."  His  other  name 
was  Horatius,  and  "  Col.  Horatius"  seemed 
to  fit,  so  we  let  it  go  at  that.  I  never  knew  just 
why  the  Colonel  had  left  the  States  for  Quebec. 
Some  said,  that  being  very  patriotic,  he  had  left 
for  the  good  of  his  country.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
I  am  indebted  to  him  for  the  "  best  time  "  I've 
ever  had,  and  I'm  not  going  to  say  a  word 
"  agin"  the  Colonel,  even  if  I  could. 

"  Come  to  Quebec,  Rube,  I'll  show  you  the 
quaintest,  most  picturesque,  most  delightfully 
charming  old  city  in  America!"  The  Colonel 
used  a  large  number  of  other  adjectives  in  his 
letter  of  invitation,  and  while  I  thought,  at  the 
time,  he  was  a  little  '^  off,"  I  have  learned  by 
reality  that  instead,  his  use  of  that  part  of  speech 
is  very  meagre  indeed.     But  I  don't  blame  the 

7 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Colonel,  even  Webster  himself  would  have  had 
to  invent  new  adjectives  had  he  visited  this  dear 
old  town  before  writing  his  "  story  of  words." 

At  the  time  I  received  the  Colonel's  letter  of 
invitation,  my  conception  of  Quebec  was  a  small 
round  spot  on  the  map.  I  knew  that  it  was  on 
a  river  called  the  St.  Lawrence,  but  had  to 
refer  to  the  aforesaid  map  to  determine  on 
which  side  of  the  river.  'Tis  true,  I  had  seen 
pictures  of  the  city,  with  men  climbing  impos- 
sible hills,  with  other  men  on  top  of  the  heights 
shooting  down  at  the  climbers,  but  I  knew 
naught  of  enough  to  warrant  a  trip  of  over  five 
hundred  miles,  and  all  the  adjectives  in  the 
Colonel's  meagre  vocabulary  were  necessary  to 
give  courage  for  the  start.  But  once  here,  I 
ceased  to  wonder  why  men  by  the  names  of 
Wolfe,  Montgomery,  Arnold  and  a  host  of 
others,  had  been  so  desirous  of  getting  into 
Quebec. 

In  taking  a  trip  for  pleasure  never  go  direct 
to  your  objective  point,  if  there  be  aught  worth 
seeing  by  the  way.  I  found  much  to  sec  but  as 
soon  as  I  reached  the  Province  of  Quebec,  I 
found  a  great  deal  that  I  couldn't  understand, 
more  especially  the  language.  My  French 
education  had  once  been  attempted,  but  after 
many  years,  all  that  "  stuck  "  was  "  Parley  voo 
francy"  and  a  few  other  words  quite  as  useful. 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
"  La  Meme  Chose." 

I  remembered  meant  ''  the  same  thing,"  and 
hke  a  child  just  learning  to  talk,  I  was  anxious 
for  an  occasion  to  use  it.  It  soon  came. 
Seated  one  day  at  a  hotel  table,  where  English 
was  a  dead  language,  I  was  given  a  few  of  the 
preliminaries,  but  soon  wanted  more,  as  I  was 
very  hungry  that  day.  A  gentleman  at  my 
right  gave  an  order,  as  I  thought,  and  I  proudly 
said  to  the  pretty  waitress.  "  La  mcnie  chose." 
vShe  went  away  smiling,  but  as  she  brought 
nothing  for  us,  I  succeeded  finally  in  asking  my 
"  rescuer "  to  the  right,  what  he  had  ordered. 
''  I  zay  to  ze  manisell,  I  wants  nutting  more  " — 
and  I  had  been  waiting  for  "  La  mcuic  chose." 
Boulanger. 

On  my  arrival  in  one  of  the  cities  I  found 
myself  caught  with  a  very  old  joke.  On  all  the 
bread  waggons  I  noticed  "  Boulanger," 
"  Well,"  thought  I,  "  this  Boulanger  fellow 
must  be  a  very  wealthy  baker  to  run  so  many 
wagons,"  but  I  was  no  worse  than  Doc.  Brough 
of  Boston,  the  day  he  went  through  the  great 
Notre  Dame  Church,  in  Montreal,  with  a 
number  of  his  friends.  He  noticed  on  so  many 
seats  "  A  Louer."  ''  Say,  boys,"  said  Doc, 
"  this  Mr.  Louer  must  run  a  whole  children's 
aid    society   and   a    female    college,   to   need    so 

9 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

many  pews,"  Doc.  and  I  learned  a  few  things 
after  we  had  been  in  Canada  a  short  while, 
among  others  I  learned  that  "  Boulanger"  was 
"  Baker,"  and  Doc.  that  "  A  Louer,"  was  "  To 
Let." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !" 

What  will  most  try  your  good-nature 
possibly,  is  to  sit  at  table,  with  "  French  at  a 
glance,"  and  laboriously  pick  out  what  you 
want  to  order,  and  when  at  last  you  have  framed 
your  sentence  to  your  own  satisfaction,  to  have 
some  pretty  little  waitress,  who  has  stood  smil- 
ing at  you  during  the  whole  efifort,  sweetly  say 
to  you,  the  one  single  English  sentence  that  she 
knows  :  "  I  beg  your  pardon  !"  which,  trans- 
lated, means,  ''  Try  again."  When  I  told  this 
to  the  Colonel  he  said  he  was  glad  it  didn't 
always  hold  good,  as,  said  he  :  "A  big  fellow 
stepped  on  my  toes  the  other  night  in  a  crowd, 
'  I  beg  your  pardon!'  said  he — but  I  didn't  want 
him  to  try  it  over." 

Rube  wants  a  Cuiller. 

Worse  still,  however,  may  be  the  one  who 
thinks  she  grasps  your  meaning.  One  day  at 
dinner,  I  wanted  a  spoon,  which  I  remembered 
was  "  cuiller "  in  French,  so  I  called  for 
"  cuiller"  but  was  surprised  to  have  the  waitress 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

bring  me  a  beefsteak,  she  having  thought  I  said 
"  culr,"  which  is  French  for  leather.  The  mis- 
take in  this  case  consisted  in  her  misunderstand- 
ing my  word.  There  may  be  much  tenderness 
in  Canada,  but  in  the  country  hotels,  beefsteak 
is  not  on  the  Hst.  This  absence  does  not  apply 
to  the  cities,  where  the  "  tables  "  are  all  that  one 
could  wish.  French  may  be  spoken  more  up 
here,  but  you'll  notice  thai  ''  Scotch  "  is  spoken 
oftcner. — (Key  to  this  furnished  on  application). 

WHAT  YOU  SEE  BY  THE  WAY. 

One  of  the  first  things  you  will  note  in 
passing  through  Canada,  especially  so,  if  you 
are  farmer  born,  will  be  the  long  narrow  fields, 
many  of  them  not  over  200  feet  wide,  with  all 
the  farm  buildings  at  one  end,  facing  on  the 
main  road,  for  that  matter  all  roads  are 
"  main,"  and  very  few  of  them.  This  is  no 
doubt  a  good  plan,  for  it  takes  off  the  loneliness  of 
country  life,  and  makes  of  the  farming  district 
one  long  village.  Your  notion  of  Canada  may 
be  a  vast,  well  wooded  country.  This  may  have 
once  been  true,  and  far  from  the  railroads  is 
yet  so,  but  the  devastation  of  the  timber,  in 
many  districts,  has  been  so  great  that  farmers 
have  to  drive  eight  and  ten  miles  for  their  fire- 
wood, which  they  gather  in  the  autumn  in 
neighborhood  "  wood  parties." 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Whether  by  long  custom,  or  some  other 
reason,  the  farmers  plow  their  fields  in  little 
"  lands,"  not  over  a  rod  wide,  leaving-  a  dead 
furrow  between.  One  seldom  sees  a  field  of 
wheat,  and  corn  never,  at  any  rate  not  in  this 
Province.  There  may  be  a  system  of  farming 
here,  but  it  will  never  be  adopted  by  our  people. 
I  have  seen  in  a  five  acre  field,  oats,  barley,  rye, 
timothy  and  potatoes,  all  growing  side  by  side. 
Yet  for  all  this  seeming  lack  of  system  I  am  told 
that  the  ''  habitant  "  (French  farmer)  is  often  a 
man  of  means,  and  seldom  poor.  He  may 
make  but  little,  yet  he  always  lays  by  a  part  of 
that  little.  We  sell  our  hay  by  the  ton,  here  it 
is  gathered  into  bundles  of  fifteen  pounds, 
bound  with  a  "  hay  twist,"  and  sold,  so  much 
per  hundred  bundles.  So  expert  is  the  hay 
maker  that  he  can  guess,  within  a  few  ounces  at 
furthest,  of  the  requisite  fifteen  pounds.  The 
farm  waggon  is  usually  a  two-wheeled  cart 
drawn  by  one  horse.  This  "  cart"  is  farm 
wagon,  road  wagon  and  buggy  all  in  one.  The 
viaisons  (houses)  of  the  habitant  are  all  after  one 
pattern,  mostly  one  story.  The  roofs  are 
seldom  straight,  the  rafters  are  cut  with  a 
"  dish"  so  that  a  line  drawn  from  the  cone  to 
the  eaves  would  not  touch  the  roof  at  any  part, 
and  within  three  feet  of  the  eaves,  it  might  be 
eight  inches  from  the  shingles  or  the  "  thatch." 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

The  housewife  usually  surrounds  her  dwelling 
with  pretty  flowers,  so  that  while  the  maison  may 
not  be  architecturally  beautiful,  it  is  homelike, 
and  gives  one  a  feeling  of  comfort.  The 
people  in  their  simple  way  seem  to  be  content 
and  happy,  which  in  the  end  is  better,  no  doubt, 
than  our  great  advancement  (?)  in  country  life, 


We  took  a  ride  one  day. 

where  we  vie  with  the  cities  and  always  keep  in 
debt. 

With  the  habitant  it  is  not  all  work.  The 
long  winter  nights  are  filled  with  much  of  joy 
and  merry  making. 

The  description  I  gave  in  "  My  Friend  Bill," 
of  "  The  Dance  in  a  Barn,"  although  describing 


13 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  custom  of  a  Pennsylvania  mountain  com- 
munity, might  well  have  been  written  of  a 
dance  in  the  valley  of  the  Beauport,  or  many 
another  happy  valley  along  the  St.  Lawrence. 
See  in  this  picture  the  genial  host  standing  in 
the  open  door,  greeting  some  late  arrivals. 
Through  the  doorway  you  note  the  cheerful 
room  and  the  merry  dancers.  You  can  Avell 
imagine  the  ''  fiddler  "  sitting  in  some  prominent 
place,  playing  the  music  that  had  for  a  century 
or  more  set  going  the  feet  of  generations  long- 
forgotten.  The  fiddler  is  the  one  important 
personage  of  the  dance,  as  he  plays  and  "  calls 
ofif,"  ever  keeping  time  with  his  foot.  No,  it  is 
not  all  work — there  is  much  of  joy  in  the 
humble  home  of  the  ''  habitant"  in  every  land 
beneath  the  sun,  and  I  often  think  the  joy  is 
more  real  than  in  the  homes  of  those  who  have 
naught  of  earth's  goods  to  wish  for. 

A  beautiful  custom  these  habitants  have,  in 
the  event  of  the  loss  by  fire  of  a  neighbour's 
house  or  barn.  They  will  gather  in  for  miles 
around,  on  the  Sunday  following  the  fire,  and 
after  mass,  set  to  work  and  rebuild  the  house 
or  barn,  all  contributing  material  or  labor  and 
in  most  instances  both.  In  one  or  two  Sun- 
days the  building  is  replaced.  And  again,  the 
loss  of  a  horse  or  cow  is  made  up  by  the  kind 

14 


"  BE  IT  EVER  SO  HUMBLE  "-Especially  when  the  fiddle's  a  going 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

hearted  neighbors,  contributing  as  their  means 
will  allow. 

My  notion  of  Canadian  weather  was  nnxcd 
up  with  snowshoes  and  ice  palaces,  and  although 
the  Colonel's  invitation  came  in  June,  the  weight 
of  my  baggage  was  largely  due  to  the  heavy 
underwear  with  which  it  was  loaded  down. 
When,  however,  the  thermometer  got  to  playing 
gleefully  among  the  nineties,  my  notion 
changed,  and  I  felt  quite  at  home  in  the  lightest 
possible  clothing.  Here's  the  difference,  how- 
ever hot  the  days,  the  nights  are  cool  and 
enjoyable.  Before  I  had  left  Canada,  the  Que- 
becker  had  quite  convinced  me  that  even  winter 
was  not  only  endurable  but  delightfully  enjoy- 
able.— Moral,  never  have  a  notion  of  any  place 
until  you  get  there. 

I  reached  Quebec  in  time  to  see  the  city  cele- 
brate 

"  DOMINION  DAY,"  JULY  i, 

not  with  a  noisy  Fourth  of  July  demonstration, 
but  in  quiet  enjoyment.  Flags  gave  the  city  a 
gay  appearance,  and  everybody  seemed  happy. 
The  small  boy  had  fired  no  "  crackers,"  but  he 
went  to  bed  that  night  with  all  his  fingers  intact, 
and  was  content.  I  have  since  noted  that  this 
day's  celebration  was  indicative  of  the  people. 
Their  conception  of  ^'a  good  time"  is  not  spelled 

17 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  hilarious."  From  the  common  laborer  to  the 
most  cultured,  they  are  gentle  and  courteous  in 
their  manner  toward  each  other,  as  well  as 
toward  the  stranger. 

Levis  is  the  "J^^sey  City"  of  Quebec.  It  is 
across  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  is  about  as  wide 
as  the  Hudson  river  at  New  York  City.  You 
cross  by  a  small  ferry  boat,  pointed  at  either 
end,  and  is  entered  by  footmen  and  teams, 
through  openings  in  the  side. 

The  first  impression  of  Quebec  is  that  of  a 
great  flat  rock  dropped  down  upon  a  plain  2,000 
feet  wide,  covering  about  two-thirds  of  the  front 
area,  reaching  in  places  almost  to  the  river's 
edge. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last,   Rube," 

was  the  Colonel's  greeting  as  I  got  ofif  the 
ferryboat  down  at  Dalhousie  street.  "  I  had 
quite  given  you  up, — thought  you  had  gotten 
frozen  out  and  gone  back  home."  The  Colonel 
had  not  forgotten  my  notion  of  cold  (?)  Canada, 
and  was  using  it  against  me  with  the  ther- 
mometer at  89  in  the  shade.  "  Oh,  no,"  said  I, 
mopping  my  brow,  "  it  may  be  a  little  chilly,  but 
I  come  prepared,"  with  a  nod  at  my  baggage. 
"  No,  Coloiiel,  I  have  been  doing  the  Province 
as  I  came  along,  seeing  its  people,  and  learning 
French.       Why,  I  started  with  one  sentence  of 

i8 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

three  words  and  now  I  know — "  "  How  many?" 
broke  in  the  Colonel,  who  had  been  here  a  year 
and  didn't  know  even  one.  "  No  matter,  you 
wouldn't  know  if  I  told  you."  Then  I  thought 
of  my  "  ciiir "  (pronounced  kweer)  experience 
at  the  country  hotel  and  changed  the  subject. 

From  the  first  day  until  I  left,  the  Colonel 
kept  me  on  the  move.  It  was  just  like  going 
through  an  old  museum.  You  look  at  the  out- 
side of  the  building  and  feel  that  it  will  take  but 
a  short  time  to  "  do,"  but  when  you  visit  room 
after  room,  case  after  case,  each  case  filled  with 
objects  of  interest,  time  flies  unnoted  and  still 
there  is  ever  something  new  to  see.  So  with 
the  quaint  old  city,  every  turn  brings  into  view 
some  object  with  a  history.  It  may  be  a  thick 
walled  building  that  has  stood  the  fires  and 
storms  of  centuries,  or  it  may  be  some  monu- 
ment to  a  hero  long  turned  back  to  mother  dust 
No  matter  what  the  turn  you  are  sure  to  find 
there  something  worth  coming  far  to  see.  The 
very  vehicles  in  the  narrow  streets  are  found 
nowhere  else  than  in  Quebec.  The  Calcche — a 
two  wheeled  buggy-like  alTair,  where  the  driver 
sits  on  the  dashboard  while  the  "fares"  go 
bounding  along  with  the  mixed  feeling  of  riding 
camel  and  a  ship  in  a  storm,  looks  to  the 
observer  anything  but  comfortal)le.  especially  so 
if  the  road  be  rough. 

19 


The  Yankee  in  Qncbcc. 

The  Colonel  made  me  promise  that  I  would 
not  tell  of  a  certain  caleche  ride  we  took  one 
day  out    a  road    north-west    of     Quebec.       He 


forgot,   though,    to   make    me     promise    that    I 
would  not  get  the  most  Racy  ("A.G.,"  of  the 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Montreal  Star)  caricaturist,  in  Canada,  to  do  it 
for  me — No,  Colonel,  I'll  not  say  a  word  about 
that  ride — T  don't  need  to. 


M_3El_ii 


1  asked     one     day     why     the    "  drays "     are 
so  narrow,  and  was  told  they  were  built  so  to 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

fit  the  streets.  They  are  simply  a  two  poled 
skid  on  two  wheels  and  yet  they  can  haul  any- 
thing under  the  sun  with  them.  Speaking  of 
the  streets,  you  should  see  some  of  them!  Ten 
and  twelve  feet  wide  !  Why,  St.  Pierre,  (St. 
Peter)  the  ''  Wall  Street"  of  the  city,  is  but  a 
rod  in  width,  not'  counting  the  sidewalks — a 
narrow  footing,  made  for  two,  unless  the  pedes- 
trians themselves  are  too  "  wide,"  when  they 
must  then  go  Indian  file.  I  asked  the  Colonel 
one  day  why  there  were  so  many  saints  on  the 
Quebec  calendar,  and  he  said  he  didn't  know, 
unless  it  was  that  there  might  be  enough  names 
for  all  the  streets,  As  it  was,  there  were  not 
enough,  by  one,  to  go  around.  That  one  is  the 
Fifth  Avenue  of  Quebec,  and  is  called  the 
Grande  Alee — because  it  is  so  wide.  On  this 
Avenue  is  the  Parliament  building  situated,  in 
beautifully  kept  park-like  grounds.  Some  very 
modern  residences  are  to  be  seen  in  this  vicinity. 
Le  Chien  D'Or. 

I  had  scarcely  got  well  located  when  the 
Colonel  set  me  to  reading  Le  Chien  D'Or  (The 
Golden  Dog)  by  Wm.  Kirby,  "  Read  this 
book,"  said  he,  ''and  you  will  have  a  good  foun- 
dation on  which  to  begin  enjoying  the  old 
town."  The  advice  was  good,  and  I  pass  it 
along  with  emphasis. 

Almost  the  first  sentence  is  : 


TJic  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
"  See  Quebec   and  live  forever." 

At  the  end  of  my  visit  I  could  not  but  feel  that  if 
life  could  continue  as  delightfully  on,  I  would 
gladly  welcome  the  quotation  as  a  reality. 

"  To-morrow  morning  we  will  go  at  sunrise 
to  the  heights  just  outside  the  Citadel  walls, 
where  you  will  get  a  view  the  like  of  which  you 
have  never  before  seen.  It  will  give  you  a  con- 
ception not  only  of  the  city,  but  the  surrounding 
country  as  well."  This  from  the  Colonel, 
whose  reputation  for  early  rising  was  none  of 
the  best,  came,  as  a  greater  surprise,  when  he 
said  that  the  sun  rose  at  4.10. 

Uiew  from  Citadel  (Uall 


Oh,  that  view  !  It  will  remain  as  a  lasting 
picture  in  the  gallery  of  memory.  You  sweep 
the  eye  around  over  hundreds  of  square  miles, 
and  in  no  direction  is  there  aught  but  that  which 
is  pleasing.  To  the  north-east,  the  river 
abruptly  widens  past  the  city,  from  one  mile  to 
a  great  bay  of  five  miles  in  width,  antl  in  the 
centre  distance,  stands  boldly  out  the  historic 
23 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Isle  of  Orleans. 

To  the  north,  beyond  the  Beauport  Valley,  you 
sec  in  the  far  distance  the  Laurentian  moun- 
tains, covered  with  dense  forests  to  their  very 
crowns.  The  Falls  of  Montmorency  are  in  plain 
view,  eight  miles  away,  where  the  waters  fall 
into  the  St.  Lawrence.  Following  up  to  the 
west,  over  this  Beauport  Valley,  your  eye  moves 
with  snail-like  motion,  for  every  part  is  beauti- 
ful. You  look  it  over,  and  come  again  and 
again  to  feast  your  eyes  upon  the  scene.  Here 
and  there,  over  the  gently  undulating  expanse, 
you  may  count  village  after  village,  with  their 
ever  present  church  spire.  The  whole  valley  is 
dotted  by  the  little  white  maisons  of  the  habitant, 
making  it  seem  one  continuous  village.  The 
Beauport  to  the  north-west  blends  into  the 
valley  of  the  St.  Charles,  which  reaches  away 
toward  the  Indian  village  of  Lorette,  and  loses 
itself  to  sight.  To  the  west,  you  look  across  the 
Plains  of  Abraham,  which  begin  at  the  western 
wall  of  the  Citadel,  and  run  from  St.  Louis  road 
to  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  extending  to  the  west, 
almost  to  Wolfe's  cove.  Looking  over  the 
southern  wall  of  the  Citadel,  almost  straight 
down  400  feet  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  you  get  a 
view  most  thrilling.  Across  the  river,  and 
beyond   Levis — a  little  city   of   10,000  people — 

24 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

your  vision  reaches  to  the  mountains  of  Maine, 
sixty  miles  away.  This  whole  scene  is  one  vast 
circular 

Panarama  of  Peace. 

Close  your  eyes  and  wander  back  for  nearly  four 
hundred  years,  and  the  panorama  vaguely 
blends  itself  into  one  of  war.  There  in  the 
harbor  you  see  slowly  sailing  in,  "  the  first 
arrivals  from  the  sea" — time  1635 — three  small 
ships,  under  Jacques  Cartier,  La  Grande  Hermine, 
La  Petite  Hermine  and  UEmcrillon,  and  as  the 
time  creeps  on  ,you  may  see  hostile  fleets  in  this 
broad  expanse  of  water,  pouring  their  solid  shot 
into  the  battle-scarred  city,  whilst  almost  at  your 
very  side  stands  a  Frontenac  or  a  Montcalm, 
answering  back  solid  shot,  in  defiance.  Look, 
look  in  any  direction,  where  you  will,  on  land, 
are  marchings  and  counter  marchings,  storming 
and  beating  back,  until  you  seem  to  be  in  the 
midst  of 

One  vast  Battle  Field. 

You  open  again  your  eyes,  go  out  among  the 
people,  and  lose  all  belief  in  prenatal  influence, 
for  a  more  amiable,  peace  loving  people,  1  have 
never  met,  than  these  children  of  a  race,  l)orn, 
and  nurtured  through  centuries  of  war. 

"  Colonel,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  back 
to  the  present,  ''this  one  morning  amply  repays 

25 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

me  for  the  long  journey.  I  have  seen  many- 
places  of  interest;  have  looked  upon  scenes  of 
great  beauty,  in  many  lands,  but  this  view  from 
the  Citadel  wall  of  Quebec,  pleases  me  most  of 
all." 

The  practical  Colonel  suggested  breakfast  at 
this  point,  after  which  we  began  seeing  Quebec 
proper,  or,  rather. 

Two   Quebecs. 

the  Upper  and  the  Lower  town. 

The  latter  is  that  narrow  portion,  that  skirts 
the  river,  and  runs  up  against  the  hill  of  solid 
rock,  which  rises  at  the  east,  almost  straight  up 
a  hundred  or  more  feet,  while  the  southern  por- 
tion, around  toward  Cape  Diamond — on  which 
stands  the  Citadel, — reaches  up  350  or  more 
feet,  and  so  near  to  the  river,  that  there  is  but 
room  for  one  narrow  street,  with  houses — much 
of  the  way — only  on  one  side.  The  Upper 
Town,  as  its  name  indicates,  is  all  that  portion 
on  top  of  the  high  plateau. 

WHAT    WAS    THEIR    STORY? 

We  often  watch  the  passing  thronp-  and  think 
that  each  single  one  of  the  nuniber  has  his  or 
her  life's  history.  Some  lives  seem  all  of  joy, 
others  all  of  sadness,  and  yet  how  true  ;  "  Into 
each  life  some  rain  must  fall.''       One  morning 

26 


The  Ymikec  in  Quebec. 

while  in  this  mood  of  analysin.^  the  faces  about 
me,  there  was  sitting  on  a  near-hy  Terrace  scat, 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  young  women  [  had 
ever  seen.  It  was  not  so  nuich  the  face  as 
what  was  in  its  cultured  expression.  She  was 
at  first  alone,  and  sat  contemplntin.g  the  magnifi- 
cent outlook  from  the  Terrace,  but  there  was 
enacted  in  quick  succession  a  whole  life's  drama. 
First,  an  elderly  man  came  up,  and  without  any 
preliminary  words  began,  "  Clarence  is  here  and 
you  must  consent."  "  Father,"  said  she.  "  I 
cannot."  "  I  said  must,"  and  ihe  next  moment 
he  was  gone.  His  place  was  taken  by  a  young 
man  of  an  effeminate  type.  One  of  those  callow 
youths  too  often  found  among  the  scions  of  the 
rich.  He  was  faultlessly  dressed,  and  had  all 
the  airs  of  his  type,  with  none  of  those  qualities 
of  manner  belonging  to  the  manly  man.  He 
too  began  abruptly  with  a  simpering  lisp  :  ''  I 
have  seen  youh  fatheh,  and  he  consents."  She 
was  silent  and  seemed  not  to  notice  the  youth, 
who  began  again,  "  Oh,  I  say,  I  have  seen 
youh  fatheh."  "Ah — have  you!  Very  glad,  for 
he  seems  to  like  you,  better  go  see  him  again," 
at  which  she  opened  a  magazine  and  paid  no 
attention  to  him.  "  I  say,  its  not  faah  to  tweat 
a  fellow  like  this,  when  he's  so  despahately  in 
love."  "Go  away — you  annoy  me.  Why  did 
you  follow  us  to  Quebec?       I  thought  we  had 

27 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

lost  you  in  the  Adirondacks."  ''  I  heard  youh 
fatheh  say  he  was  going  a-fishing  and  I  followed 
youh  heah  just  as  soon  as  I  could  get  out  of 
those  awful  woods."  She  was  oblivious  to  him, 
and  answered  none  of  his  questions  nor  paid  the 
slightest  attention  to  his  presence  and  he  finally 
left  her  and  walked  away. 

Not  ten  minutes  passed  until  a  second  young 
man  came  upon  the  scene.  Unlike  the  other  he 
was  the  very  embodiment  of  the  perfect  man,  in 
form  tall  and  well  proportioned,  with  a  hand- 
some face;  but  at  once  I  noticed  that  his  hands 
showed  that  they  had  known  manual  labor. 
She  was  so  absorbed  in  her  reading  that  he 
stood  at  her  very  side  before  she  noted  his  pres- 
ence ;  but  the  moment  she  looked  up  and  saw 
him,  her  countenance  fairly  beamed  with  joy, 
the  next  moment  her  face  changed  to  sadness. 
She  began:  "Oh,  John,  why  did  you  come? 
You  know  how  angry  father  will  be  if  he  sees 
you  here — It  can  never  be — go  away — each 
time  it  is  harder  for  me  to  bear,  and  yet  I  must, 
I  must."  "  Don't  say  that,  Edith,  I  will  bide 
my  time.  Love  such  as  ours  must  have  but 
one  ending."  "Oh,  John,  you  do  not  know, 
father  has  just  now  told  me  that  I  must  consent 
to  marry  Clarence,  and  you  know  my  father's 
determination.  I  do  not  like  to  think  it,  but 
rich  as  he  is,  he  is  yet  mercenary,  and  Clarence, 

28 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

you  know,  is  to  inherit  from  that  old  uncle 
fabulous  wealth."  They  had  arisen,  and  at  this 
they  walked  away,  still  talking  earnestly,  leaving 
me  to  think  out  their  life's  story — who  were 
they?  How  would  it  end?  Ah  me,  "  Into  each 
life  some  rain  must  fall." 


"  WHERE  ?" 

"Where  will  we  begin?"  I  asked.  "We  must 
get  through  to-morrow,  or  next  day  at  fur- 
thest." The  Colonel  only  looked  at  me  and 
smiled.  At  the  end  of  a  month  I  joined  him  in 
the  ''  Smile."  ("  No,  not  that  kind,  as  the 
Colonel  is  '  strictly' — save  on  occasion")  for  I 
was  still  "  looking "  with  much  of  interest  still 
unseen.     The  Colonel  produced  a  long  list  of 

POINTS     OF     INTEREST     IN     AND 
AROUND  QUEBEC. 

The  Citadel. 
Dufiferin  Terrace. 
The  Governor's  Garden. 
The    Church  of  Notre-Damc  des  Victoires. 
The  English  Cathedral. 
The  Grand  Battery. 
The  Chateau  Frontenac. 
29 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

The  Archbishop's  Palace. 

The  BasiHca  and  Seminary  Chapel. 

The  Post-Office  and  Chien  D'Or. 

The  Chateau  St.  Louis. 

The  Place  d'Armes. 

Champlain's  Old  Fort. 

The  Court  House. 

The  Champlain  Monument. 

The  Site  of  the  Old  Parliament  House. 

The  Old  Jesuit  College. 

The  Old  Market  Square. 

The  City  Hall. 

Laval  University. 

The  Masonic  Hall. 

Where  Montcalm  died. 

The  Ursuline  Convent. 

The  Esplanade. 

The  City  Gates  and  Fortifications. 

The  Hotel  Dieu — a  hospital. 

The  City  Palace  of  Bigot. 

St.  Roch's. 

Literary  and  Historical  Society. 

The  Churches. 

The  Parliament  House. 

The  Drill  Hall. 

Places  of  Execution. 

The  Grande  AUee, 

Wolfe's  Monument. 

The  Plains  of  Abraham. 

3^ 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Cemeteries. 

Public   Institutions. 

The  St.  Foye  Monument. 

Fort  Jacques  Cartier. 

Gale's  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  No.  2y  St.  Stanis- 
las Street. 

Chateau  Bigot  and  Charlesbourg. 

Beauport. 

The  Falls  of  Montmorency. 

La  Bonne  Ste.  Anne. 

Indian  Lorette, 

Cap  Rouge. 

Isle  of  Orleans. 

Chaudiere  Falls. 

Lake  St.  Joseph. 

Lake  Edward. 

Drives  Around  Quebec. 

Lake  Beauport. 

I  read  over  the  list  and  wondered  if  he'd  left 
out  anything.  "Oh  yes,  there  are  many  things 
you'll  see  by  the  way,  which  the  Carrels  and 
Chambers  overlooked  in  their  guide  books,  or 
did  not  think  of  enough  interest  to  put  in,  and 
you  will  wonder  why  they  missed  them.  There 
are  often  things  you  never  see  in  guide  books, 
that  please  you  more  than  what  is  on  the  list. 
Why,  Rube,  the  great  Sir  LeMoine,  has  written 
no  less  than  fourteen  books  on  Quebec  and  its 
environs,      and      they      arc      all      entertaining. 

31 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Scarcely  a  spot  in  this  old  city  but  what  could 
'  a  tale  unfold.'  Come,  Rube,  what  on  the  list 
do  you  want  to  do  first?"  "Well,  in  this  case," 
said  I,  "  since  the  '  last '  cannot  be  '  first '  as  it 
is  too  far  out  for  to-day,  let's  change  the  pro- 
gramme and  see  , 

The  Citadel. 

The  sentinel  at  the  gate  must  have  known  the 
Colonel,  for  he  sent  four  or  five  of  his  picked 
men  along,  to  see  that  he  (the  Col.)  did  not 
carry  ofi  any  of  the  ordnance,  that  being  all 
there  was  in  sight  to  carry,  but  the  men  were 
sent  all  the  same,  and  they  very  courteously 
showed  us  about.  I  never  was  good  at  detailed, 
description,  and  I  don't  propose  beginning  on 
the  Citadel.  For  that  matter,  however,  there's 
nothing  to  describe,  but  a  barren,  flat,  rocky 
expanse  of  some  40  acres,  walled  in,  with  200 
soldiers  to  show  tourists  around,  during  the 
day,  and  have  a  good  time  at  the  Terrace 
Concerts  with  the  girls,  in  the  evening. 

There  wasn't  a  single  incident,  until  we 
reached  that  little  cannon  where  the  guides  all 
stop  and  the  spokesman  clears  his  throat, 
throws  out  his  chest,  strikes  an  attitude,  and 
tells  you,  pompous  like  : 

32 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  This  is  the  gun  we  took  from  you  Yankees 
at  Bunker  Hill  " 

That  sort  o'  made  me  want  to  answer  up 
sharp  hke,  and  I  started  in,  but  only  got  as  far 
as  :  ''  Yes,  you  took  the  cannon  ;  but  we — " 
when  the  Colonel  stopped  me  short  off.  He 
told  me — when  we  got  outside, — "  I  tell  you, 
Rube,  you  came  within  an  ace  of  making  a  fool 
of  yourself.  Why,  that  old  joke  is  nearly  as 
ancient  as  the  cannon  itself.  Every  Yankee 
who  comes  here  gets  it  off,  and  imagines  that 
he  is  the  very  first  to  think  of  it.  That's  why 
all  those  soldiers  came  along.  They  sized  you 
up,  and  knew  you'd  '  fall  in.'  "  "  Well,  I  don't 
care,"  said  I,  "  I  got  even  with  them  on  those 

Dinky  Caps. 

didn't  I  ?"  You  see  I  asked  the  Colonel,  low 
like  :  "  Say,  Horatius,  why  does  the  government 
make  these  handsome  young  soldiers  wear  that 
No.  3  cap  on  a  No.  6  head  ?"  I  thought  I  had 
said  it  low  like,  but  they  all  heard  it,  and  jumped 
at  me  as  though  I  was  a  Boer  outside  of  his 
rilie  pit,  and  wanted  to  know  what  I  meant  by 
that  insult  to  the  "  dinky."  "  Gentlemen,"  said 
I,  scared  like,  ''  I  take  it  all  back — I  apologize, 
I  didn't  mean  it — I  meant,  why  does  your  gov- 
ernment make  you  wear  a  No.  6  cap  on  a  No.  3 

33 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

head  ?"     "Ah,  young  man  'tis  well,  'tis  well  you 
did  not  insult  the  cap." 


That  evening  we  went  out  on 

Duflferin  Terrace 

the  like  of  which  cannot  be  seen  anywhere  in  the 
world.  It  overhangs  the  clifif  almost  200  feet 
above  the  St.  Lawrence.  It  is  an  immense 
board  walk,  nearly  a  third  of  a  mile  in  length, 
and  in  places  nearly  100  feet  wide.  It  is  called 
Dufiferin  from  the  popular  Governor-General 
whose  regime  in  the  seventies  so  changed  the 
whole  of  Quebec,  beautifying  the  old  and  adding 
to  the  new.  Twice  a  week  a  most  excellent 
band  from  the  garrison  under  the  leadership  of 
Mr.  Joseph  Vezina  renders  a  programme  of 
music  in  a  manner  that  would  do  credit  to  a 
Sousa.  The  beauty  and  fashion  of  Quebec 
come  out  by  the  thousands  to  listen  to  the 
music,  as  they  promenade  up  and  down  the 
Terrace.  There  is  no  jostling,  no  loud  talking, 
no  flirting. 

The  Colonel  says  the  Quebec  Girls  don't  flirt, 

and  the  Colonel  is  authority,  or  I  thought  he 
was.  The  girls  themselves  say  that  the  Colonel 
don't  give  them  a  chance. 

34 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

As  we  walked  away  to  the  further  end  of  the 
Terrace,  I  asked  where  those  steps  led,  up  there 
along  the  Citadel  wall.  "  I'll  show  you  to- 
morrow." said  the  Colonel,  "  which  is  better 
than  telling  you."  We  were  out  early.  From 
the  Terrace  we  started  up  a  long  flight  of  stairs, 
sort  of  a 

Jacob's  Ladder, 

just  like  going  to  your  office  in  a  New  York 
Sky  Scraper  on  Sunday,  when  the  elevator  boy 
is  off  fishing.  After  going  up,  up.  up  until  you 
get  tired  counting  the  steps,  you  find  yourself 
almost  level  with  the  Citadel  top.  then  you  stop 
to  rest  and  get  a  view  up  the  St.  Lawrence  that 
pays  for  the  long  climb.  You  can  see  almost 
to  the  turn  of  the  river,  five  miles  away,  to 
where  the  five  million  dollar  bridge  is  being 
built  by  the  Quebec  Bridge  Company.  You 
come  to  the  end  of  this  elevated  walk  at  the 
south-west  wall  of  the  Citadel,  where  you  find 
before  you 

THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM. 

"  You  cannot  but  note  here."  said  I.  "  the 
appropriateness  of  things.  You  have  to  climb 
Jacob's  Ladder  to  reach  Abraham's  Plains." 

"  Yes.  but  this  historic  ground  was  not  named 
after   that    kind   of   an    'Abraham,'  "    replied    the 

37 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Colonel,  ''  he  was  a  Scotchman.  LeMoine  is 
my  authority,  and  I  can  give  no  better.  He 
tells  us  that  they  were  named  for  Abraham 
Martin,  from  Scotland,  and  were  once  much 
more  extensive  than  their  present  area  of  80 
acres.  As  soon  as  you  can  find  the  time  you 
will  do  well  to  read  this  same  authority  on  the 
great  battle  fought  here  between  Generals 
Wolfe  and  Montcalm.  It  is  as  thrilling  as  a 
novel.  Can  you  see  over  there,  that  stone 
shaft?  that  is 

The   Wolfe    Monument, 

and  marks  the  spot  where  the  great  English 
General  fell,  on  September  13th,  1759,  but 
heard,  before  he  died,  that  he  had  won  a  signal 
victory  over  the  French  General  Montcalm,  who 
was  mortally  wounded  in  the  same  battle,  and 
died  the  next  day.  Look  across  to  the  south- 
west, through  those  woods,  to  the  river.  There 
we  will  find 

Wolfe's  Cove, 

where  the  General  landed  the  morning  of  the 
great  battle."  A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  us 
to  the  "  Cove,"  Along  up  the  St.  Lawrence 
for  miles  the  shores  are  continuous  bluffs,  with 
here  and  there  a  passage  way  down  to  the  river. 
These  places  are   called   Coves.     One  of  these, 

38 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  nearest  to  the  city,  was  used  by  General 
Wolfe  as  the  landing  place,  from  his  ships,  the 
morning  of  the  battle.  All  along,  as  far  west  as 
Sillery,  three  miles  from  Quebec,  are  the  ruins 
of  houses,  factories  and  piers,  showing  a  once 
prosperous  era  in  the  history  of  the  city,  as  a 
shipping  and  ship-building  centre.  At  Sillery, 
or  a  little  to  the  west,  this  changes,  and  in  the 
Cove  where  Dobell  &  Company  have  their  great 
booms  and  timber  interests,  we  find  a  thriving 
community.  Everything  seems  prosperous.  It 
is  near  here  that  we  find  Holmwood,  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Dobell's  genial  partner,  Mr.  L. 
Evans.  Here  also  is  the  home  of  the  Hon. 
John  Sharpies,  another  large  timber  merchant. 
It  is  in  Sillery  Cove  where,  in  1637,  was  built 
the  Manor  House,  which  still  stands — the  oldest 
house  about  Quebec.  From  Sillery  east  to  the 
City,  it  is  one  continuous  line  of  desolation, 
from  the  top  of  the  blufif,  to  the  river's  edge,  but 
on  the  plateau  running  to  the  precipitous  bluff 
and  westward,  are  some  magnificent  old  country 
seats,  along  the  St.  Louis  road. 

We  go  on  to  a  long  straggling  village  called 

SILLERY, 

on  the  north  shore  of  the  river,  three  miles  west 
from  Quebec.  Here  are  the  Protestant  and 
Catholic 


39 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Cemeteries, 

with  their  old  monuments  interspersed  among 
the  modern  blocks  of  marble.  The  grounds 
are  well  kept  and  beautifully  shaded.  This 
quaint  old  town  has  little  of  interest  to  the 
passing  observer,  but  when  the  volumes  of  his- 
tory are  thrown  open,  he  finds  that  almost  every 
foot  he  treads  is  historic  ground. 

It  is  such  places  as  Sillery,  that  makes  one 
feel,  in  attempting  to  write  of  them,  the  meagre- 
ness  of  space.  Here  is  an  old  town — -nothing 
in  its  modern  self — so  full  of  ancient  worth, 
that  one  feels  as  though  doing  it  an  injustice,  to 
pass  it  with  a  single  page.  To  the  reader  who 
has  not  yet  seen  Quebec,  and  knows  not  of  the 
mines  of  interest,  to  the  student  of  ancient  lore, 
to  be  found  here,  I  can  but  say  that  this  little 
country  village,  contains  more  than  I  had  once 
thought  was  to  be  found  in  the  whole  city  itself. 
And  this  is  but  an  instance.  Go  in  any  direc- 
tion you  may,  the  same  conditions  prevail. 
Would  that  every  school  teacher  in  America 
could  spend  her  vacation  here,  as  I  know  of  no 
place  where  that  vacation  could  be  passed  with 
as  much  real  profit  to  herself,  and  her  pupils, 
as  Quebec  and  its  environs. 

"  Come,  come.  Rube,"  said  the  Colonel,  who 
had  been  trying  to  decipher  some   old   inscrip- 
40 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

tion  for  the  past  half  hour :  "  You  won't  have 
time  for  all  that  moralizing  if  you  are  to  get 
away  to-morrow  or  next  day  at  farthest."  He 
never  would  get  through  talking  about  my  first 
intention  of  getting  away  "  To-rnorrozv^ ;  and 
week  after  week,  kept  bringing  it  up,  whenever 
I  stopped  too  long  over  something  he  had  often 
seen. 


On  the  way  back  to  the  city  we  passed  two  of 
the  remaining 

Martello  Towers, 

near  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  They  are  circular 
forts,  and  look  not  unlike  a  flaring  top  bucket 
turned  upside  down,  and  about  as  useful  now, 
as  the  bucket  in  the  above  condition,  although 
$15,000  each  was  used  in  their  construction. 
Like  many  another  defensive  pile,  however,  they 
were  once  useful,  before  the  modern  engines  of 
ofTence  came  in. 

Not  far  away  are  the 

Buttes-au-Nevue, 

formerly  used  for  the  execution  place  of  crimi- 
nals, but  now  that  Quebec  has  an  average  of  but 
one   execution  in   fifteen   years,  they  don't   need 

41 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

any  special  place  for  that  work.       Somehow,  if 
I  may  use  the  bull, 

They  reclaim  their  murderers  before  they  kill 
anybody. 

We  pass  on  the  way  in,  at  the  western  border 
of  the  city,  a  fine  drill  hall,  and  the  old  skating 
rink,  which,  since  the  burning  of  the  one  theatre 
of  the  city,  two  years  ago,  has  been  used  as  a 
place  of  amusement. 

Since  writing  the  foregoing  the  City  of 
Quebec  has  acquired  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
and  are  to  convert  it  into  a  park.  The  highest 
skill  in  landscape  gardening  will  be  called  into 
requisition,  and  in  the  years  to  come  there  will 
be  on  these  historic  hills  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful parks  in  all  the  land.  The  situation  is 
ideal,  and  every  spot  being  fraught  with  conti- 
nental interest,  thousands  will  visit  it  from  all 
parts  of  the  world,  for  no  spot  is  more  of  a  world 
Mecca  than  these  old  Plains. 


CHXJECHES. 


While  the  places  of  amusement  are  few,  the 
churches  are  many,  both  Protestant  and  Catho- 
lic, and  are  well  attended.  Some  of  them  date 
back  over  two  hundred  years.       The  Church  of 


42 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Nolre-Dame  des  Victoires,  built  in  1688,  was  so 
named  to  celebrate  the  victories  over  Sir 
William  Phipps  and  the  destruction  by  storm,  of 
Sir  Hovendon  Walker's  fleet,  which  was  on  its 
way  to  bombard  Quebec,  in  171 1.  The  manner 
of  soldiers  attending  service  is  usually  very 
enlivening,  as  they  are  preceeded  by  the  garri- 
son brass  band. 

The  most  beautiful  church  in  Quebec  is  St. 
John's,  as  viewed  from  the  exterior.  The 
Basilica  has  the  finest  interior.  Not  far  from 
St.  John's  is  St.  Matthew's,  whose  Rector  is  the 
brilliant  young  poet,  Rev.  Frederick  Geo.  Scott, 
Here  rest  the  bones  of  a  brother  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  Major  Thomas  Scott,  and  those  of  other 
notables  of  the  long  ago. 

In  some  of  the  churches  the  customs  were 
very  odd  to  me.  One  in  particular  where  you 
are  shown  to  your  scat  by  a  man  whom  you 
will  at  once  take  for  a  brigadier  general  in  full 
uniform.  As  seats  were  at  a  premium  the  day 
the  Colonel  and  I  attended  this  particular 
church,  I  sought  out  this  high  dignitary  and 
addressed  him:  "General,  have  you  any  vacan- 
cies ?"  The  title  had  its  efifect,  and  we  were 
shown  the  best  he  had,  and  after  service,  the 
finest  pictures  and  other  things  of  interest,  were 
pointed  out  to  us  by  him.     Moral:  If  you  would 

43 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

be  shown  attention  use  a  title  if  there  is  a  pos- 
sible excuse  for  it. 

Moral  Quebec. 

I  have  never  seen  so  moral  a  place  as  Quebec. 
As  before  mentioned,  there  has  been  but  one 
murder  committed  in  this  city,  of  over  80,000 
inhabitants,  during  the  past  fifteen  years.  Not 
only  is  Quebec  remarkably  free  from  crimes, 
but  the  whole  Province  of  over  1,000  miles  long 
and  hundreds  of  miles  wide.  During  1900,  in 
this  vast  area,  there  were  but  463,  all  told,  com- 
mitted to  the  penitentiary  at  St.  Vincent  de 
Paul,  and  of  that  number  but  five  of  them  for 
murder.  Drunkenness  is  so  rare,  that  arrests, 
for  that  cause  are  seldom  made,  unless  it  be 
that  of  sailors  from  ships  in  the  harbor.  The 
city  is  patrolled  by  68  policemen,  and  only  half 
that  number  are  on  duty  at  the  same  time,  and 
have  little  to  do  at  that.  They  are  a  fine  body 
of  men,  very  polite  and  kind  to  strangers.  Pos- 
sibly the  instance  that  will  best  illustrate  the 
honesty  of  this  people,  is  that  one  may  forget 
and  leave  an  umbrella  in  a  public  place  on  a 
rainy  day,  and  hours  after  return  and  find  it  un- 
touched. The  Colonel  says  he  knows  places 
where  such  forgetfulness  would  be  attended  by 
difTerent  results.  I  did  not  ask  if  he  had  any 
special  locality  in  mind. 

44 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
A  lesson  for  the  United  States. 

We  111  the  States  might  well  take  a  lesson 
from  Canada.  We  wait  until  a  man  becomes  a 
criminal,  and  then  make  a  great  effort,  spending 
vast  sums  of  money,  to  reclaim  him.  Here 
they  "  reclaim  "  him  before  he  needs  it.  At  an 
age  when  our  waifs  are  learning  crime  in  all  its 
intricate  branches,  the  poor  boys  here  are  in 
schools — clothed  and  supported  by  the  various 
churches,  not  alone  Catholic,  but  Protestant  as 
well.  They  may  not  spend  so  much  on  magnfii- 
cent  churches  (although  some  of  them  are 
beautiful)  as  we,  but  they  do  certainly  get  better 
moral  results. 

While  on  this  subject  of  church  I  must  tell 
you  of  our  visit  to 

STE.    ANNE   DE   BEAUPBE. 

Heretofore,  when  I  had  heard  of  the  miracul- 
ous cures  at  this  church,  I  was  under  the  impres- 
sion that  it  was  located  in  the  North  Eastern 
part  of  New  York  City,  and  this  is  the  impres- 
sion that  generally  prevails — at  least  in  that  city, 
where  there  is  a  little  Ste.  Anne.  But  the  great 
Ste.  Anne  is  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  21  miles  down 
the  north  shore  of  the  river  from  Quebec.  It  is 
visited  by  tens — I  might  say  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands annually.  Pilgrimages,  composed,  some- 
times   of    1,000    or    more,    arc    of    almost    daily 

45 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

occurrence,  throughout  the  warmer  months  of 
the  year,  while  no  visitor  to  Quebec  thinks  of 
going  away,  without  first  having  seen  La  Bonne 
Ste.  Anne.  The  day  we  went  down,  the  Colonel 
had  a  small  pilgrimage  of  his  own  to  look  after. 

There   were     General     Frank     M ,    Judge 

P and  their  families  from  C ,  Ohio, 

•and  a  number  of  teachers  from  Wisconsin.  We 
left  on  a  very  early  train  and  all  the  way  down 
were  exercised  as  to  the  possibility  of  getting 
breakfast,  but  on  reaching  there  found  that  with 
nineteen  hotels  to  select  from,  we  need  not 
return  hungry. 

Origin. 

Oae  wonders  that  a  church  should  have  been 
erected  in  so  desolate  and  in  so  isolated  a  spot 
as  this,  but  the  Enigma  is  plain  when  one  hears 

the  story  of  how,  early  in  i6 a  small  crew  of 

Breton  mariners  were  near  being  shipwrecked, 
when  they  made  a  vow  that  if  La  Bonne  Ste. 
Anne  would  save  them  from  the  storm,  they 
would  erect,  in  her  honor,  a  church  on  the  spot 
where  they  reached  the  land.  They  were  not 
lost,  and  their  vow  was  made  good,  by  the  erec- 
tion of  a  small  wooden  chapel  at  their  landing 
place.  This  was  replaced  by  a  larger  one  in 
1660,  and  it  in  turn  by  the  magnificent  one  of 
stone,  that  now  occupies  the  spot. 
46 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
That  Miracles  are  yet  performed, 

seems  not  to  be  doubted.  On  either  side  of  the 
church  entrance  are  piles  of  crutches,  and  other 
cripple  paraphernalia,  that  reach  almost  to  the 
ceiling.  These  have  been  discarded,  from  time 
to  time,  by  devout  pilgrims,  who  no  longer  had 
need  to  use  them.  Near  by  are  several  little 
chapels — one  a  fac  simile  of  the  original,  and 
just  beyond  is  the  chapel  of  the  "  praying 
stairs."  A  long  and  broad  flight  of  steps,  reach- 
ing from  near  the  front  entrance  to  the  second 
story.  The  pilgrim  begins  at  the  first  step, 
kneeling  and  saying  a  prayer  for  each  one,  until 
he  has  reached  the  top.  Stich  humiliation 
certainly  deserves  reward.  Inside  the  great 
church,  masses  are  being  said  for  the  benefit  of 
the  various  pilgrimages  (there  were  four  this 
day)  who  have  come  to  worship. 

A  more  impressive  sight  I  have  never  seen, 

than  the  marching  of  one  of  these  long  proces- 
sions, as  it  encircles  the  wide  plaza  in  front  of — 
and  then  enters — the  church,  carrying  baimers 
and  singing  as  only  a  thousand  enthusiastic 
devotees  can  sing.  It  is  beautiful  and  insi)ir- 
ing.  Ste.  Anne  is  reached  by  the  Electric  Rail- 
road. 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

The  Colonel's  Ohio  friends  remained  in 
Quebec  for  several  days,  enjoying  the  old  town. 

One  morning  while  "  doing "  Little  Cham- 
plain  Street,  we  continued  on  past  the  great 
"  land  slide  " — where  about  one  hundred  yards 
of  the  hill  swept  down,  a  few  years  ago,  across 
the  street,  carrying  houses  and  everything  before 
it,  burying  a  number  of  persons  who  were 
passing  at  the  time.  Just  beyond,  we  came  to 
the  large  board  sign,  far  up  the  side  of  the 
almost  perpendicular  cliff  on  which  is  seen  in 
large  letters  : 

Where  Montgomery  Fell. 

Miss  P.,  looking  up  at  it,  most  innocently 
said  :  ''  I  don't  wonder  that  he  fell,  but  I  do 
wonder  how  he  ever  got  up  there." 

Recently  the  date  of  General  Montgomery's 
assault  and  death  was  questioned,  by  Dr. 
Kingsford,  in  a  work  on  Canada.  He  maintain- 
ed that  the  General  attempted  his  famous  assault 
on  the  morning  of  January  ist,  1776,  in  which 
he  was  instantly  killed.  The  Doctor  had  not 
counted  on  the  ardent  defender  of  Quebec 
history,  when  he  thus  attempted  to  change 
facts.  Sir  James  LeMoine  at  once  brought  to 
bear  such  an  array  of  proof,  that  it  all  transpired 
on  the  morning  of  December  31st,  1775.  that 
the  date  will  possibly  never  again  be  questioned. 
48 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Fairy  Tales. 

If  some  of  the  heroes  of  those  stirring  times 
had  died  in  as  many  places  as  are  pointed  out 
as  that  in  which  they  last  saw  the  light  of  day, 
one  would  be  led  to  think  of  the  animal  of  the 
many  lives.  One  enterprising  inn-keeper  will 
tell  you  that  "  This  is  the  very  room  in  which 
Montcalm  died,"  and  prove  it  by  an  oil  painting 
which  he  has  recently  had  done,  showing  the 
great  General  in  modern  uniform,  surrounded  by 
members  of  the  Red  Cross  Society,  who  are 
doing  their  utmost  to  keep  him  alive,  until  he 
can  be  taken  to  a  small  shop  near  by,  where 
you  are  told  that  :  "  Here  is  where  the  dear 
General  Montcalm  died,"  and  then  follows  a  full 
history  of  the  sad  event.      This  is  enterprise! 


When  the  Colonel's  friends  had  gone  he  was 
so  homesick  that  I  had  to  take  him  out  and 
away  from  the  city,  to  sort  o'  distract  his  mind. 
"  Let's  see  that  list  again."  said  I — taking  it  and 
reading  it  over.  "  Montmorency, — no,  we'll 
save  that  for  another  day.  Oh!  here  is  one  that 
sounds  all  right. 

INDIAN  LORETTE, 

and  we've  just   got   time   to  catch   the  St.  John 
train  out  to  it.       Eight  miles  through  a  beautiful 

49 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

valley,  which  I  never  tire  of  looking  at."  All 
the  way  out  the  Colonel  was  telling  me  about 
the  Huron  Indians  (over  300  of  them)  who  lived 
there  and  made  baskets,  moccasins  and  did  all 
sorts  of  work,  but  hard  work,  which  the  Colonel 
said  they  very  much  disliked,  and  never  did, 
even  though  given  large  orders  to  fill.  He  said 
some  of  the  young  girls  were  very  beautiful,  and 
that  if  princesses  were  in  order,  would  make  fine 
ones.  Just  at  this  point  we  reached  Indian 
Lorette  and  I  looked  out  of  the  window — "  See, 
see.  Colonel,  your  beautiful  Indian  Princesses, 
now  on  the  station  platform  there!  Why,  you 
didn't  half  describe  them — I've  not  seen  such  a 
lot  of  pretty  girls,  at  one  place,  since  I  came  to 
Canada  !"  On  the  platform  was  our  old  friend 
Major  O'Sullivan.  The  Colonel  sort  o'  hung 
back,  while  I  began  enthusiastically  congratu- 
lating the  Major  on  the  beautiful  Indian 
Princesses  of  Lorette — "  Thim  .'"  said  the  Major 
nodding  toward  the  crowd  of  pretty  girls,  "Thim, 
why,  thcy'r 

Summer  boorders  from.  Quebec." 

I  treated  the  Colonel  real  cool  after  that  for  half 
an  hour,  and  he  deserved  it  !  Lorette  is  as 
pretty  and  picturesque  as  its  name.  It  has  its 
falls,  which,  though  not  as  large  as  ]\Iont- 
morency,  yet    are    very    fine.       We  visited    the 

50 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Indian  village — a  little  settlement,  where  the 
houses  are  dropped  down  as  you  would  pour 
out  of  a  basket  a  lot  of  blocks.  No  streets, 
although  it  is  all  street,  save  where  the  houses 
set.  The  oddest  town  you  ever  saw.  It's 
worth  the  trip  if  you  could  see  nothing  else.  We 
were  especially  fortunate  in  reaching  the  Indian 
Catholic  church  just  as  two  visiting  Grey  Nuns 
were  being  shown  the  rare 

Gold  Embroidered  Vestments, 

of  inestimable  value,  made  by  the  ladies  of  the 
Court  of  King  Louis  XIV,  and  presented  to  the 
Huron  tribe  at  that  time.  For  the  great  favor 
of  getting  to  see  these  gems,  we  were  indebted 
to  Major  O'Sullivan,  whose  wife — a  woman  of 
rare  culture — the  only  remaining  daughter  of 
the  late  Chief  Tahourenche  ("The  Break  of  Day") 
stands  high  in  church  circles. 

Near  the  town,  or  quite  in  the  limits,  is  one  of 
the  remaining,  if  not  the  remaining,  herd  of  wild 
buffalo  in  Canada,  As  I  looked  at  those  shaggy 
animals  I  ran  back  in  mind  to  the  time  I  once 
hunted  them  on  the  plains  of  Kansas.  I  had 
to  tell  the  Colonel  about  the  day 

I  shot  my  first  buffalo. 

After  graphically  describing  to  him  that  day's 
hunt,  how  I  stealthily  crept  upon  the  monster, 

51 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

until  within  twenty  yards,  before  I  shot  him,  he 
quietly  asked  carelessly  :  "Did  you  kill  the 
buffalo  ?"  "  Now,  see  here,  Colonel,"  said  I, 
riled  like,  "  you  heard  me  say  plainly,  I  shot  the 
beast,  and  you  should  let  it  stop  right  there.  I 
shot  him,  and  would  have  done  it  again,  were 
it  not  that  by  the  time  he  had  got  through 
running  in  one  direction  and  I  in  the  other,  we 
were  too  far  apart."  Some  men  do  so  love  to 
spoil  a  good  story  ! 

I  asked  the  Colonel  if  the  Indians  owned  these 
buffaloes.  "  No,  an  Indian  is  not  much  on  the 
own — he  hardly  owns  himself.  No,  these  be- 
long to  a  firm  in  Quebec,  named  Holt,  Renfrew 
and  Co."  "  What,  do  you  mean  the  great 
furriers  near  the  Basilica,  where  you  said  every- 
body went  to  get  furs — f]irst,  then  saw  the  city 
afterward  ?"  "  Yes,  yes,  but,  Rube,  you  must 
break  yourself  of  that  awful  habit.  It's  not 
popular  up  here,  Furs,  fnrst  .'"  scornfully.  His 
cold  stare  made  me  shiver,  then  turn  warm.  I 
told  him  so  when  he  perpetrated  a  worse  one 
than  mine,  in  three  words — 

Shive,  Furs,  Warni. 

We  fortunately  met  the  Indian  agent,  Mr. 
A.  O.  Bastien,  whose  Huron  name  is  Wasen- 
darolen,  which  translated  back  into  English 
means  "  The  man  who  talks,"     To  this  fact  we 

52 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


t'^^^^:^ 


I  went  to  Canada  with  the  blossoms  of  spring  and  remained 
till  snow  fell. 


This  picture  is  run  in  at  this  point  to  sort  "'  cool  off  the  weather  for 
subsequent  summer  readers,  or  to  remind  them  of  furs.  I  reiiUy  don't  know 
which,  but  in  either  ease  you  mustn't  believe  half  this  artist  tells  them. 

53 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

were  given  much  interesting  information  about 
the  Huron  tribe — once  a  warHke  race,  but  now 
a  most  peaceful  one,  since  most  are  Good 
Indians. 

We  met  Poo  Bah. 

We  also  met  the  railroad  agent,  the  road  con- 
tractor, the  postmaster,  the  manufacturer,  the 
general  store  keeper  and  village  magistrate.  His 
name  in  Japanese  would  be  Poo  Bah,  but  in 
Lorette,  it  is  Henry  Ross.  Now,  as  I  was  a 
Ross  myself,  about  ten  generations  ago,  I  was 
delighted  to  know  that  this  cousin  was  doing 
so  well, — officially. 

By  the  time  we  had  done  Lorette  the  Colonel 
had  gotten  back  his  spirits  and  we  returned  from 
this,  one  of  our  best  trips.  Don't  miss  it  when 
you  come  to  Quebec. 


The  next  day  it  poured  rain,  but  we  ''  dodged 
between  drops  "  or  were  driven  when  it  was  too 
severe,  to  visit 

The  Ursuline  Convent. 

The  Laval  University. 

The  Basilica. 

The  English  Cathedral. 

The  Hotel-Dieu. 

54 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

The  Literary  and  Historical  Society,  and 
other  places  in  the  city  where  the  seeing  was 
on  the  inside. 

THE  URSULINE  CONVENT, 

is  very  old,  dating  back  to  1639.  It  has  gone 
through  a  fiery  ordeal,  having  been  destroyed 
by  that  element  first  in  1650  and  again  in  1686. 
In  the  old  chapel  was  pointed  out  the  grave  of 
General  Montcalm,  who  was  buried  there  on  the 
evening  of  September  14th,  1759.  His  grave 
was  dug  by  a  strange  grave  digger.  A  shell 
had  exploded  within  the  chapel  walls,  and 
excavated  a  deep  hole  in  the  rocky  floor,  in 
which  he  was  laid  to  rest. 

The  Guide  Books  of  both  Chambers  and 
Carrel,  in  speaking  of  this  old  convent,  refer  to 
its  most  interesting  feature  as  its  chapel,  which 
reminds  me  that  I  was  fortunate  to  have  reached 
Quebec  in  time  to  see  it,  as  it  was  entirely 
demolished  during  my  stay  in  the  city,  and  a 
modern  building  was  going  up  when  I  left. 
There  is  to  me  a  rare  fascination  simply  in  look- 
ing upon  the  grave  of  a  hero.  The  mortal  part 
of  him  who  was  great,  may  long  ago  have  moul- 
dered away,  and  what  I  may  see  is  nought  but 
ground,  and  yet  I  am  held  to  the  spot  by 
memory  of  what  that  ground  once  covered.  The 
hero  may  not  have  died  a  Victor,  what  matter, 

55 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

he  was  still  a  Hero.  Especially  is  this  true  if 
that  hero  were  good — as  well  as  brave — Mont- 
calm was  both.  The  chapel  that  long  marked 
his  resting  place  is  gone  and  may  soon  be  for- 
gotten, but  that  which  is  more  enduring  than 
stone  will  make  this  old  site  sacred  ground, 
for  here  will  ever  cling  the  memory  of  Montcalm. 

The  Laval  University. 

Named  for  the  great  Laval,  was  but  glanced 
through  that  day.  It  required  a  subsequent 
full  day  to  do  it  even  partial  justice.  I  won't 
here  try  to  faintly  describe  it,  it  must  be  seen  ; 
its  art  gallery  carefully  gone  over  ;  its  library  of 
100,000  volumes — not  to  mention  the  rare  and 
very  valuable  manuscripts — passed  through  ; 
its  thousands  of  rare  specimens  of  mineralogy  ; 
and  its  vast  collection  of  stuffed  birds,  fishes, 
and.... well,  see  it;  then  go  to  the  observatory 
on  the  top,  where,  next  to  the  Citadel  walls,  you 
will  have  the  best  view  of  the  Upper  and  Lower 
Quebecs,  and  the  surrounding  country. 

The   Basilica, 

Is  another  very  old  church,  having  been  com- 
menced in  1647.  Its  chancel  is  designed  in 
imitation  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  It  contains 
many  fine  paintings — of  Van  Dyck — even  a 
Rubens  is   shown  vou.       Many  of  these   great 

56 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

works,  of  the  famous  masters,  were  secured 
from  the  mobs  that  pillaged  the  churches  of 
Paris  during  the  reign  of  terror  in  1793.  You 
see  in  this  church  much  of  great  value,  among 
others  a  gold  lamp  worth  $3,000. 

The  English  Cathedral, 

Has  much  of  interest  to  see.  The  $10,000 
communion  service,  a  present  of  George  the 
Third,  to  this  church,  is  very  fine  indeed. 
Around  the  walls  are  monument  slabs  in 
memory  of  men  whose  names  stand  high  among 
those  who  made  early  history  in  Canada. 

The  Hotel-Dieu. 

A  convent  and  hospital,  was  founded  by  a 
niece  of  the  famous  Cardinal  Richelieu  in  1639. 
It  is  the  oldest  of  its  kind  in  America.  It  con- 
tains some  fine  rare  paintings. 

The  Literary  and  Histoi'ical   Society, 

Has  its  rooms  in  Morrin  College.  It  is  a  store 
house  of  valuable  data  of  Quebec,  as  well  as  of 
Canada.  The  lover  of  the  early  history  of  this 
country  niav  spend  hours  and  days  most 
valuably  among  the  archives  of  this  society. 
Sir  James  AI.  LeMoine  was  four  times  its  Presi- 
dent. His  enthusiasm  fired  the  hearts  of  many 
an  able  writer,  who  came  to  seek,  and   in   turn 

57 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

gave  back  much  of  rare  value  to  history  and 
romance.  Francis  Parkman  was  enthused  by 
him,  and  the  beautiful  historical  works  of  that 
able  writer  are  the  result  ;  Wm.  Kirby  wanted  a 
subject  and  LeAIoine  gave  him  one  which  made 
even  the  Queen  thank  him  for  his  ''  Le  Chien 
D'Or";  Wm.  Dean  Howell  has  much  for  which 
to  credit  this  President  in  "  A  Chance  Ac- 
quaintance"; while  Gilbert  Parker  was  given  oy 
him  the  plot  of  ''  The  Seats  of  the  Mighty." 
Even  the  humble  pen  is  often  influenced  by  this 
"  Nestor  of  Canadian  History,"  and  however  the 
world  of  readers  may  view  it,  the  wielder  of  that 
"  pen  "  will  ever  be  grateful  to  this  Grand  Old 
Man. 

LITERARY   QUEBEC. 

The  Rock  City  has  just  reason  to  be  proud  of 
its  Literati.  Much  of  real  worth  has  gone  out 
and  beyond  its  walled  confines,  and  the  world 
has  gladly  accepted  the  product.  Its  news- 
papers (both  English  and  French)  are  enterpris- 
ing and  well  edited.  I  speak  from  knowledge, 
for  in  the  month  I  spent  in  the  city,  I  so  persis- 
tently read  at  the  French  publications,  that  I 
could  read  them  fairly  well  at  the  end  of  that 
time.  While  I  could  read,  I  could  not  speak  it, 
owing  to  my  "  Horruble  accint." 

58 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Fairly  at  the  head  of  the  Hst  of  writers,  stands 
the  man  I  have  so  often  referred  to, 

Sir  James  M.  LeMoine. 

Recognized  at  home,  and  honored  abroad,  his 
writings  are  never  questioned  for  accuracy.  He 
goes  to  the  bottom  and  brings  up  the  facts  in 
such  a  lucid  manner,  that  he  will  ever  stand  as 
authority.  To  give  a  list  of  his  writings  would 
be  to  furnish  my  readers  with  a  catalogue.  A 
few  of  the  number  might  be  mentioned  as  : 
Legends  of  the  Lower  St.  Lawrence,  Maple 
Leaves  (six  series  of  them),  The  Tourist's  Note 
Book,  Quebec  Past  and  Present,  Historical 
Notes  on  Quebec  and  its  Environs,  The  Scot 
in  New  France,  Picturesque  Quebec,  and  many 
others,  not  to  mention  the  large  number  he  has 
written  in  French  ;  the  pamphlets  he  has  pro- 
duced ;  the  lectures  he  has  delivered  ;  or  the 
volumes  he  has  written  of  the  flowers  and  birds 
of  Canada.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  we  fintl  him 
holding  honorary  diplomas  from  nearly  forty 
societies,  including  some  of  the  greatest  both  in 
the  United  States  and  Europe  ?  On  the  list  are 
seen  the  Audubon  Society,  of  New  York  ; 
American  Philosophical  Society,  of  Philadelphia; 
The  International  Ornithological  Congress,  of 
Buda-Pesth,  Hungary;  and  the  Historic  Diplo- 
matic Society,  of  Paris.       Is  it  any  wonder  that 

59 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Queen  Victoria  honored  him  by  making  him  a 
Sir  Knight  ?  And  yet  to  meet  him  in  his  home 
at  Spencer  Grange — a  mile  west  of  the  city — he 
is  so  gentle  and  unpretentious,  that  you  must 
know  his  great  work  to  fully  realize  in  whose 
presence  you  are.  In  reviewing  the  literary 
work  of  this  writer,  you  will  instinctively  feel 
that  his  entire  life  has  been  devoted  to  that 
work  alone,  but  instead,  he  was  for  fifty-three 
years  at  the  head  of  important  departments  in 
the  Government  of  Canada,  with  vast  details  to 
oversee;  details  that  would  seem  to  leave  no 
time  for  aught  else,  and  yet  we  find  him  carry- 
ing on,  during  those  long  years,  a  research  that 
has  proved  of  so  great  value  to  the  antiquarian, 
and  to  the  lover  of  history.  While  Sir  James  is 
honored  abroad,  for  his  mental  work,  he  is  loved 
at  home  for  himself.  From  his  fellow  literati 
to  the  driver  who  carries  you  to  Spencer  Grange, 
you  find  the  true  position  held  by  this  charming 
old  man  in  the  hearts  of  his  people.  This  to 
him  must  be  sweeter  far  than  the  plaudits  of  a 
foreign  world. 

Dr.   George  Stewart,  Jr., 

whose  name  I  find  in  the  Cyclopedia  of  Cana- 
dian Biography,  followed  by  D.C.L. — F.R.G.S. 
— F.R.S.C.,  is  the  editor  of  The  Mercury,  of 
Quebec.  He  was  a  New  York  City  boy,  and 
60 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec 

this,  from  the  above  authority,  should  be  pleas- 
ing to  the  patriots  of  that  city,  to  know  that 
even  though  another  land  had  received  the  bene- 
fits of  his  mind,  yet,  this  other  land  was  New 
York's  debtor  for  his  existence.  To  quote  the 
authority  :  "Among  Canadian  literateurs,  Geo. 
Stewart,  Jr.,  has  fairly  won  for  himself  the 
distinguished  position  and  reputation  he  enjoys, 
both  in  England  and  Canada,  as  a  man  of  letters, 
and  one  of  the  brilliant  literary  lights  of  which 
our  Dominion  is  so  justly  proud.  At  the  age  of 
sixteen  he  edited  The  Stamp  Collectors  Gazette, 
at  eighteen  he  published  Stewart's  Quarterly 
Magazine,  at  thirty  he  accepted  the  editorship  of 
the  Rose-Bedford  Canadian  Monthly,  and  a  year 
later  that  of  the  Quebec  Morning  Cliro)iiclc.  In 
1879  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Interna- 
tional Literary  Congress  of  Europe — an  honor 
conferred  on  no  other  Canadian — having  X'ictor 
Hugo  for  President.  Up  to  that  time,  those  in 
America  so  honored  were  Longfellow,  Bancroft. 
Holmes,  Emerson,  and  Whitticr.  The  I\c\val 
Geographical  Society  has  conferred .  its  degree 
of  Fellow  upon  Dr.  Stewart,  and  King's  Uni- 
versity, of  Nova  Scotia,  was  proud  to  grant  him 
a  D.C.L.  The  Royal  Society  of  Canada  elected 
him  Secretary  for  the  English  section.  The 
Historical  Society,  of  Quebec,  has  elected  him 
seven  times  its  President.       The  exclusive  liter- 

61 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

ary  club  of  London,  the  Athaeneum,  admitted 
him  an  honorary  member,  his  sponsors  being 
Matthew  Arnold  and  Lord  Tennyson." 

Then  follows  a  long  list  of  his  works.  He 
is  said  (besides  his  ability  as  a  writer)  to  be  one 
of  the  most  polished  after  dinner  speakers  in  the 
Dominion. 

E,  T.  D.  Chambers. 

Show  me  a  man's  company  and  I  will  read 
for  you  his  position  in  a  given  walk  of  life. 
Again,  a  writer's  ability  is  known  by  the  people 
with  whom  he  is  placed,  by  the  people  who  pay 
for  his  work.  When,  therefore,  I  find  the  name 
of  E.  T.  D.  Chambers,  another  of  Quebec's 
men  of  letters  in  such  company  as  President 
Roosevelt,  Rudyard  Kipling,  Richard  Harding 
Davis,  Paul  Leicester  Ford,  Gilbert  Parker,  Fred 
Remington,  and  other  lights,  whose  names 
are  known  by  all  who  read  the  best,  I 
scarce  need  say  more  in  his  favor,  and  yet  when 
this  man's  work  is  known,  I  can  but  feel  that 
Outing,  in  the  above  list  of  writers  showed 
wisdom,  not  alone  in  choosing  him,  but  in  plac- 
ing him  far  toward  the  head  of  the  list.  Mr. 
Chambers  is  English  born  and  educated.  He 
was  long  the  editor  of  The  Chronicle,  of  this  city, 
but  retired  in  1898,  to  devote  himself  entirely 
to    literature.       The    London     Daily    Telegraph 

62 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

says  of  him  :  ''  Mr.  Chambers  is  a  recognized 
authority  on  Canadian  sport,  angling  in  par- 
ticular." He  has  written  extensively  on  angling 
for  Baedeker's  "  Canada,"  He  has  long  been 
a  contributor  to  the  leading  English,  American 
and  Canadian  Magazines.  His  book,  published 
by  Harper  Brothers,  "  The  Ouananiche  and  its 
Canadian  Environment,"  will  long  remain  in  the 
lead,  in  the  line  of  angling,  in  story.  His 
"  Guide  to  Quebec,"  and  his  "  Guide  to  Eastern 
Canada  "  are  most  reliable  works. 

Not  alone  as  a  writer,  has  Mr.  Chambers 
shown  marked  ability,  but  in  municipal  govern- 
ment he  is  considered  by  his  home  city,  worthy 
of  years  continued  election  to  the  city  Council, 
on  which  body  he  has  served  ten  years.  He 
was  also  pro-mayor  of  the  city  for  one  term. 

In  Masonry  he  is  Past  Grand  Master,  and  for 
fifteen  years  author  of  the  Foreign  Correspon- 
dence Reports  of  the  Grand  Lodge  and  Grand 
Chapter  of  Quebec. 

It  is  not  so  much  what  a  man  has  done,  as 
what  he  is.  This  is  what  the  world  asks.  Mr. 
Chambers's  manner  is  that  of  a  true  gentleman, 
genial  and  kind — the  sort  of  man  that  the  world 
loves. 

J.  J.  Proctor. 

There  is  or  was  a  certain  American  writer 
whose   politics    I    could    not   endure,   but    whose 

63 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

*"  writings,  when  he  was  off  that  subject,  were 
simply  charming  to  me.  I  used  to  read  his 
books,  mark  them  all  over  at  the  good  places, 
until  they  looked  like  blotters  after  a  month's 
usage.  The  good  things  in  them  cling  to  me  yet 
I  see  no  marks  now,  all  is  clear.  When  I 
chanced  to  drop  upon  another  author  away  off 
in  Canada,  so  much  like  my  old  friend,  my 
heart  fairly  bounded  for  old  time  memories.  I 
do  not  know  his  politics,  and  would  not  recog- 
nize them  if  I  met  them,  but  I  know  that  as 
soon  as  I  began  reading  his  "  The  Philosopher," 
I  said  ,  "  Here's  my  old  friend." 

J.  J.  Proctor,  editor  of  TJic  Chroiiicic,  is  not 
only  a  prose  writer,  but  a  poet  as  well.  He  has 
written  much  that  is  beautiful.  See  this  bit  from 
his  "  Musings  at  Nightfall  " — I  give  a  touch  of 
both  prose  and  verse  to  show  the  sweet  blending 
of  his  style  :  "  What  does  the  night  breeze 
whisper  among  the  Stumps?  A  regret  for  the 
forest  glories,  and  a  sigh  for  the  present  desola- 
tion ;  or  a  vision  of  the  beauty  to  come?  Who 
knows  ?  Does  the  man,  or  the  woman,  far 
advanced  in  years,  know  whether  in  the  depths 
of  the  heart,  the  regret  for  past  joys,  the  consci- 
ousness of  failing  powers,  or  the  prospect  of  the 
newer  and  better  life,  is  really  the  most  predomi- 
nant ?       I     wonder     whether     I     could    put  his 

64 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

thoughts    into    verse,    and    whether    they    would 
run  much  in  this  way  : 

Is  there  a  sigh  for  the  days  of  yore, 

When  the  soul  looks  back  on  the  beaten  track? 

Is  it  "Ah,  for  the  days  that  shall  be  no  more, 
And    alas  !    for    the    present,    all    gloomy    and 

black  ?' 
God  knows — Not  I. 

This  selection  I  took  at  random.  It  is  but 
the  first  verse,  and  first  verses  seldom  equal 
what  follows — would  you  might  read  it  all,  I 
shall — and  often. 

Has  there  been  said  ought  more  touching 
on  the  death  of  the  Queen  than  this  ?  It  is  but 
one  verse,  the  last  one  : 

Nay,    not    farewell,    although     our    prayers   no 

longer 
Be  for  guarding  and  for  length  of  days, 
Our  grateful  love  shall  echo  all  the  stronger 
The  new  and  nobler  hymn  our  hearts  shall  raise  : 
"  Thou  who  hast  summoned  to  a  higher  scene 
Our   Sovereign,    Mother,   friend,   God  bless   the 

Queen."  '^ 

As  one  reads  on  and  on  the  feeling  grows 
that  England,  in  her  selection  of  poets,  could 
well  look  to  her  Colonies  rather  than  at  home. 

Pathos    and    humor,    deep    thought    and    light 

65 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

fancy,  go  mingling  on  together  throughout  his 
writings,  until  one  cannot  but  feel  ;  Ah,  here's  a 


genius 


Madame  Jette 


Nor  is  excellence  in  literature  confined  alone 
to  the  men  of  Quebec,,  the  women  too  are  of  the 
number.  The  cultured  and  withal  most  charm- 
ing of  women,  Madame  Jette.  the  wife  of  the 
Lieutenant-Governor,  is  a  writer  recognized  by 
such  as  His  Lordship  Archbishop  Fabre,  at 
whose  request  this  lady  wrote  the  life  of  Madame 
Youville,  who  in  1737  founded  the  Order  of  the 
Grey  Nuns,  a  book  which  has  been  reviewed  in 
most  flattering  terms.  Amongst  the  other  liter- 
ar}^  labors  of  Madame  Jette  may  be  mentioned 
an  exhaustive  article  on  Religious  Congrega- 
tions, prepared  at  the  request  of  Lady  Aberdeen, 
for  the  book  published  by  the  Canadian  Govern- 
ment for  the  Paris  Exhibition.  Madame 
Jette  is  not  only  a  writer,  but  a  speaker  of  fine 
address.  In  style  and  manner  she  is  not  unlike 
our  own  most  estimable  Mrs.  Donald  McLean, 
whom  we  all  so  appreciate  and  admire. 

Dr.  N.  E.  Dionne. 

The  Doctor — an  F.R.S.C., — one  of  Canada's 
able  historians,  has  written  largely  on  both  men 
and  times.       His  life  of  Champlain  and  that  of 

66 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Jacques  Cartier,  are  most  exhaustive  works. 
"  New  France "  is  one  of  his  best  histories, 
although  he  has  written  much  else  that  is  excel- 
lent. He  was  chosen  as  one  of  the  writers  of 
the  history  of  Canada  gotten  out  by  the  Govern- 
ment. His  Champlain  is  being  translated  from 
the  French  into  English. 

The  Doctor  has  long  been  the  Government 
Librarian  at  the  Parliament  House. 

Napoleon  Legendre, 

A  poet  of  rare  beauty,  has  written  much  that 
is  commendable,  but,  unfortunately  for  my 
purpose,  all  his  works  are  in  French,  and  for 
their  excellence  I  must  needs  depend  upon  the 
opinions  of  others,  the  concensus  of  which  is 
reason  for  the  opening  clause  of  this  notice. 

Judge  Routhier. 

Not  alone  in  history,  poetry  and  biography, 
do  the  writers  of  Quebec  excel,  but  in  travel,  we 
find  in  Judge  Routhier  a  man  of  ability.  His 
travels  in  France,  Spain,  Italy,  and  many  of  the 
other  lands,  are  like  reading  a  story,  so  smoothly 
and  pleasantly  are  they  written.  He  is,  more- 
over, a  poet,  and  has  much  in  that  line  worthy 
of  more  than  the  passing  notice  which  I  must 
accord  in  the  hasty  glance  I  give  of  Quebec 
and  its  people. 

67 


TJic  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Rev.   Fredk.   George  Scott,  F.R.S.C. 

Poetry  seems  to  pervade  the  air  of  Quebec. 
It  is  confined  to  no  walk  of  life.  We  find  the 
muse  beside  the  editor's  chair,  or  hovering  about 
the  Court  Room,  the  friend  of  the  Judge.  There 
is  one  whose  life  seems  to  be  more  fitted  for 
the  companionship  of  that  spirit  of  beauty  than 
all  others — that  of  the  minister.  His  life  is 
given  up  to  the  better  thoughts,  and  he  has  few 
of  the  worries.  It  was  no  surprise  to  me  to  be 
told  that  the  Rev.  Frederick  George  Scott  was 
the  author  of  much  that  was  sweet  and  beautiful, 
but  it  was  a  surprise  to  find  him  a  young  man, 
when  I  had  judged  from  his  works,  that  he  was 
far  along  toward  the  end. 

Some  few  of  his  published  works  are  ,  Soul's 
Quest  and  other  poems.  My  Lattice  and  other 
poems,  The  Unnamed  Lake,  Old  and  New. 

Again  I  find  reason  to  make  a  selection,  to 
let  you  see  why  this  young  poet  so  much  pleases 
me.  The  verse  is  picked  from  the  body  of  a 
poem.  I  give  it,  merely  to  show  the  beauty  of 
rhythm  and  the  strength  of  his  style.  It  is 
from  his  "  Evolution  of  Man." 

He  wrenched  from  great  Nature  her  secrets,  the 
stars  in  their  courses  he  named  ; 

He   weighed   them,    and    measured   their   orbits, 
he  harnessed  the  horses  of  steam  ; 
6S 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

He    captured     the   lightnings    of    heaven,     the 
waves  of  the  ocean  he  tamed  ; 

And  ever  the  wonder  amazed  him,  as  one  who 
awakes  from  a  dream. 

Geo.  M.  Fairchild,  Jr. 

In  a  New  Jersey  town,  not  far  from  New 
York  City,  is  a  very  popular  club,  whose  name 
has  always  struck  my  fancy  as  being  a  very 
beautiful  one.  I  had  often  wondered  where  a 
town  not  remarkable  for  beauty  in  naming,  had 
found  one  so  euphonious  and  appropriate  for 
club  purposes,  but  on  reaching  Quebec,  and 
while  looking  over  LeMoine's  "  Explorations," 
I  ran  upon  the  picture  of  a  fine  looking  man  in 
hunting  costume.  Beneath  the  picture  is  the 
caption,  "  The  President  of  the  Oritanis  in 
sporting  jacket."  "  Oritani,"  how  homelike  that 
name  sounded  !  On  reading  the  sketch  next 
the  picture,  I  found  that  this  president  was  none 
other  than  the  popular  author,  Mr.  George  M. 
Fairchild,  Jr.,  so  well  and  favorably  known  and 
appreciated,  in  and  about  New  York  City.  I 
traced  him  to  this  New  Jersey  town,  where  he 
had  resided  when  in  the  States,  then  I  knew 
from  whence  came  the  name  Oritani.  Mr.  Fair- 
child  had  retired  from  New  York  commercial 
life,  and  is  now  residing  in  his  beautiful  country 
69 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

home,  Raven's  Cliffe,  near  Cap  Rouge,  west  of 
Quebec,  which  he  left  to  go  to  New  York  many 
years  ago.  To  his  invitation,  ''  Come  to  see 
me  before  you  return  to  New  York,"  I  said,  "  I 
will  come  (naming  the  day)  afternoon."  "  No 
you  won't;  we  dine  at  12,  and  see  that  you  are 
there  to  break  Canadian  bread  with  us  " — more 
hospitable  I  have  never  eaten  !  His  home  is  a 
very  nest  of  comfort.  To  give  a  list  of  his  writ- 
ings and  songs  would  be  to  furnish  another 
catalogue,  as  the  number  is  so  great.  The 
name  Fairchild  is  so  linked  with  Canadian 
sports,  that  to  speak  of  the  one  is  to  recall  the 
other.  "  Winter  Sports  in  Canada,"  to  read 
which  makes  one  envy  the  Winter  Canadian, 
while  his  "  Summer  Sports  in  Canada  "  will  ever 
bring  to  my  mind  the  happiest  summer  I  ever 
spent  in  any  land. 

As  an  illustration  of  this  many-sided  genius, 
see  this  inii^cical  gem,  with  a  bicycle  artist  friend 
as  his  subject: 


"  He's  an  artist,  J.  B.  Hance, 

And  if  he  by  any  chance. 

Sees  a  bit  of  landscape  as  he's  wheeling, 

Why,  he  paints  it  on  the  fly. 

For  the  public  love  to  buy 

The  picture  that  has  go  and  local  feeling. 

70 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  But  let  artists  all  beware, 
If  to  copy  him  they  dare, 

For  to  paint  upon  a  bike  while  gaily  wheeling 
Takes  a  genius  such  as  Hance's 
To  snatch  from  hurried  glances. 
The  masterpiece,  with  go  and  local  feeling." 
Mgr.    Joseph    Clovis   Kemler    Lariamme. 

Educationist,  Professor  of  Geology  in  Laval 
University,  also  Superior  of  the  Seminary  of 
Quebec  and  Rector  of  the  University.  He  has 
made  a  great  study  of  the  geological  formation 
of  the  Saguenay,  and  other  localities,  and  has 
written  very  extensively  on  this  subject,  as  well 
as  the  botany  of  Canada.  In  1894  he  was 
appointed  by  the  Pope  a  Protonofaire  Apostoliqiie 
which  carries  with  it  the  title  of  Monsignor.  In 
1897  he  was  elected  a  Vice-President  of  the 
International  Geographic  Congress,  held  in  St. 
Petersburg,  He  is  a  member  of  the  Societe 
Geologique,  of  France,  of  the  American  Geo- 
logical Society,  and  of  the  Society  of  French 
Physics.  He  is  also  an  ex-President  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  Canada. 

Louis  Honore  Frechette, 

Entered  the  Bar  in  1864.  The  following  year 
he  was  a  journalist  in  Chicago.  He  was  for 
a  while  secretary  of  the  land  department  of  the 
Illinois  Central.       He  has  been  a  member  in  the 

71 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

House  of  Commons,  has  been  a  contributor  to 
many  of  the  best  publications,  such  as  the  Forum 
— Harpers' — Ithe  Arena  and  others.  Two  of 
his  poems  were  crowned  by  the  French 
Academy  in  1880  ;  he  was  granted  the  first 
Montyon  Prize,  unanimously  ;  he  was  given  an 
LL.D.  by  McGill,  and  also  by  Queen's,  in  1881  ; 
D.  es  L.  by  Laval  University;  F.R.S.C.  in  1882; 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  Canadian  Society  of 
Arts  in  1893,  and  its  first  President  ;  created  a 
C.M.G.  by  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  in  1897.  He 
has  written  largely  in  French,  but  also  writes 
well  in  English  prose.  He  is  so  great  a  poet 
that  all  others  without  a  question  accord  him 
his  place  at  the  top  of  the  list.  He  is  Poet 
Laureate  of  Canada — a  greater  honor  than  to  be 
one  of  the  sort  that  the  Alother  Country  has 
been  choosing  of  late  years.  He  has  paid  my 
country  the  honor  of  translating  VVm.  Dean 
Howell's  :  "A  Chance  Acquaintance  "  and  Geo. 
W.  Cables'  ''Old  Creole  Days."  His  poetical 
works  I  cannot  speak  of,  since  they  are  in 
French,  but  I  am  told  that  they  are  beautiful, 
and  have  a  charm  of  style  peculiarly  their  own. 
How  one  wishes  for  space  when  one  has  found 
so  good  a  subject  as  this  Poet-Genius  ! 

With    this    long    list    of    writers    worthy    of 
passing  notice,  I    find    I     have    barely   touched 
upon  the  number  who  might  be  named  among 
72 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  literati  of  Quebec,  but  in  a  miniature  book 
one  cannot  give  all  one  would,  and  one  must 
stop  somewhere  lest  one's  book  be  not  miniature. 


CHATEAU  BIGOT 

When  I  had  finished  reading  Le  Chien  D'Or 
I  had  lost  all  desire  of  seeing  anything  else  until 
we  had  gone  to  Chateau  Bigot,  beyond  Charles- 
bourg.  It  has  been  known  by  the  names  of  the 
Hermitage,  Beaumanior,  Chateau  Bigot,  and 
a  number  of  others,  lost  in  the  travel  of  time. 
We  took  the  Quebec  and  Lake  St.  John  railroad 
to  Charlesbourg,  three  miles  north-west  of 
Quebec,  and  from  that  small  village,  walked  the 
rest  of  the  way,  which  we  were  told  was  a  short 
three  miles,  but  which  proved  so  far,  that  the 
Colonel  decided,  long  before  we  reached  it, 
that  there  was  no  question  at  all  about  Bigot 
being  a  married  man,  and  had  built  his  Castle 
so  far  away,  that  Mrs.  Bigot  would  never  risk 
finding  him  in  the  distant  jungle  of  woods,  at 
the  foot  of  La  Montagne  des  Onnes  (Elm 
Mountain).  The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that 
the  Colonel  had  gone  the  wrong  road,  and  got 
me  lost,  and  then  married  Bigot  ofT  to  excuse 
himself, 

73 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

One's  imagination  would  be  severely  taxed 
to  make  a  Castle  out  of  a  building-  30  x  50  feet 
and  two  stories  high,  (all  of  which  remains  is 
the  foundation  and  a  part  of  two  walls)  were  it 
not  that  reason  will  conclusively  show  that  the 
real  castle  was  constructed  of  wood,  and  had 
long  ago  been  burned  away.  That  which  now 
stands  was  nothing  more  than  an  annex,  or 
outbuilding,  since  the  great  retinue  of  servants 
alone  would  have  required  many  times  the  room 
contained  in  the  present  narrow  limits,  while 
for  the  people  who  were  ever  round  this  profli- 
gate, a  vast  building  would  have  been  required 
to  entertain  them  as  Bigot  was  wont  to  enter- 
tain. We  find  on  good  authority  that  "  Bigot 
had  acquired  the  chateau  (possibly  built  by 
Talon)  and  enlarged  it  very  much."  That 
which  remains  was  originally  built  as  the  foun- 
dations indicate,  neither  larger  nor  smaller. 
Again,  a  man  of  his  prodigally  luxurious  tastes 
and  untold  thousands  at  his  command,  to  gratify 
those  tastes,  would  never  have  been  content 
(even  though  it  were  possible),  to  entertain  in  a 
house  so  insignificant  as  these  remaining  walls 
would  indicate.     No, 

The  real  Castle  a  vast  structure  of  wood, 

has  long  ago  passed  back  to  the  elements,  and 
naught  remains  to  mark  the  spot. 

74 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

To  visit  this  old  Castle,  is  not  to  look  upon 
its  stone  and  fast  crumbling  mortar.  It  is  to 
feel  that  you  have  seen  the  place,  rebuilt  its  old 
walls,  and  repeopled  it  with  the  characters  who 
once  made  its  name  a  by-word  for  rapine,  and 
wrong  to  New  France.  The  weirdness  of  the 
memory  will  cling  to  the  place,  long  after  the 
walls  are  levelled  to  the  ground,  and  the  grass 
is  growing  over  the  spot,  as  now  it  is  growing 
over  the  spot  where  once  stood  the  real 
"  Chateau  Bigot." 

The  Colonel  loses  Rube 

The  Colonel,  not  content  with  getting  me  lost 
going,  lost  me  more  fatiguingly  on  the  return, 
by  taking  a  "  nearer  cut,"  as  he  said.  We  passed 
the  little  "  lake  "  near  the  Castle  bridge,  skirted 
the  Ormes  mountain,  came  through  meadows  of 
hay  where  the  whole  family  were  out  gathering 
the  bundles  on  to  the  queer  little  carts — asked 
of  workers  the  way  to  Charlesbourg  and  were 
good  naturedly  answered  by  a  "  we"  (yes)  to 
all  our  questions.  "  Kel  Shemin  Sharles- 
bourg  ?"  I  asked,  "  we,  we,"  was  the  answer, 
and  we  walked  on.  Not  one  of  the  family 
seemed  to  know  a  word  of  English.  We  passed 
others  in  the  fields  and  I  ''  Kel  Shemined"  them, 
but  like  the  first  family  of  workers  they  simply 
answered  "  we."     "  Colonel,"  said  I, 

75 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
*'  What's   the   matter,    anyhow,   with   my   French  ?" 

"  Like  yourself,  it's  lost — at  least  on  these 
people."  We  came  to  a  main  road,  after 
wandering  over  more  hay  fields,  and  wood  lots, 
A  short  way  up  this  road  the  Colonel  said  : 
"  There  is  a  woman,  Rube,  go  over  and  try 
your  French  again."  "  Quee'l  est  lay  Sheming 
Charley's  burg  ?"  I  said  slowly  and  with  empha- 
sis. She  seemed  to  grasp  my  question,  smiled, 
pointed  up  the  pike  in  the  direction  we  had  been 
walking  and  said  "  we."  ''At  last  we  are  found, 
Colonel  !"  I  exclaimed,  and  we  hurried  on, 
happy  in  knowing  that  we  would  be  able  to 
reach  Charlesbourg  before  the  last  train  left  for 
Quebec. 

A  pretty  milk  maid  finds  him. 

We  had  gone  possibly  another  mile,  when, 
coming  down  the  pike,  swinging  a  pail,  we  met 
a  pretty  milk  maid.  We  raised  our  hats,  I 
cleared  my  throat  and  started  in  laboriously  : 
"  Quel  est  le  chemin  de  Charlesbourg  ma  bonne 
demoiselle  ?"  When  she  had  concluded  a  very 
merry  laugh  at  my  effort,  she  replied  in  the  best 
English  we  had  heard  for  hours  :  "  Yeer  wurds 
aire  oil  roight,  but  yeer  accint  is  hurrubel  !  Is 
it  the  road  to  Sharleyburg  ye  wants  ?"  "  It  is, 
and  thank  you  kindly,  miss,"  said  the  Colonel, 
I  not  yet  having  recovered.  "  Wull,  if  ye  iver 
76 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

expict  to  git  thare,  turn  round  and  go  duther 
diriction."  "  Why,"  said  I,  "  there  was  a 
woman  back  there  told  us  this  was  the  Charles- 
bourg  road."  ''An'  faidth  an'  the  woman  back 
thare  was  roight,  it  is  the  Charleyburg  rode,  but 
loike  mony  anuther  rode  in  Canady,  it  hus  two 
inds,  an'  yeve  gan  and  tuk  the  rang  ind."  But 
we  didn't  take  "  the  last  train  to  Quebec,  that 
evening." 

The  Colonel  tells  a  story. 

The  Colonel  said,  the  milkmaid's  explanation 
reminded  him  of  his  friend.  General  Pleasan- 
ton's,  experience  at  Tunnulton,  W.Va.,  during 
the  war.  "  The  General  swept  down  the  moun- 
tain into  Tunnulton,  after  the  Confederates. 
When  he  got  into  the  town  the  only  man  in 
sight  was  an  Irishman,  whom  he  asked,  '  Come 
quick,  Mike,  tell  me  how  many  roads  are  there 
coming  mto  this  place  ?'  '  Wan,  yer  honor' 
and  the  General  soon  had  it  well  guarded,  so 
that  the  enemy  might  not  get  out,  with  their 
waggons  and  artillery.  Later  on  he  found  that 
there  was  another  road,  and  that  the  Confede- 
rates had  gone.  Mike  was  hunted  up,  and,  tried 
for  '  aiding  and  abetting.'  '  Now,'  said  the 
General,  with  all  the  '  scare'  he  could  possibly 
throw  into  his  voice,  'what  have  you  to  say? 
You  told  us  that  there  was  but  one  road  coming 

77 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

into  this  town,  when  I  find  instead  that  there  are 
two  !'  '  Wrang  yer  honor  is,  thayer  is  but 
wan  road  coming  in,  duther  is  going  out,  and  I 
giss  the  Ribbils  have  took  it  1'  " 


ST.   LOUIS  ROAD. 

Skirts  the  north  boundary  of  the  Plains  of 
Abraham,  and  is  destined  to  become  the  great 
avenue  of  the  city.  It  runs  almost  due  west, 
and  is  bordered  by  many  a  fine  old  homestead. 
Bona  Place,  the  home  of  Mr.  Wm.  Lee,  is  seen  to 
the  right,  just  after  passing  the  toll  gate,  on  this 
road.  Mr.  Lee  has  long  been  identified  with 
Notre  Dame  Parish,  which  is  just  outside  the 
city  limits,  to  the  west.  He  has  been  Council- 
lor for  twenty-four  years,  and  during  sixteen 
years  of  that  time  its  Mayor  as  well.  Such  a 
record  is  seldom  made,  and  speaks  volumes  for 
the  maker.  The  first  one  to  the  south  beyond 
the  Plains  is  "  Marchmont,"  now  the  property 
of  the  Ursuline  Nuns.  Next  beyond  is  "  Wolfs- 
field,"  so  called  from  its  being  the  place  on 
which  General  Wolfe  got  his  troops  in  order, 
after  their  disembarkation  at  Wolfe's  Cove,  near 
by.  It  is  the  property  of  that  genial  young 
millionnaire,  William  Price.  ''  Thornhill  "  is 
passed  on  the  north   side  of  the   road.        It  is, 

78 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

like  all  places  in  that  locality,  full  of  historic 
interest.  Opposite  is  Spencer  Wood,  the  mag- 
nificent  residence  of  Lieutenant-Governor  Sir 
Louis  Jette,  and  joining  it,  to  the  west,  is 

Spencer  Grange, 

the  beautiful  home  of  Sir  James  AL  LeAIoine. 
It  is  reached  by  a  densely  shaded,  winding  drive 
way,  from  the  Sillery  pike.  It  is  an  ideal  place, 
sweet  and  restful,  much  after  a  south  of  England 
country  seat.  It  is  not  extensive,  but  the  skilled 
mind  and  hand  has  so  concentrated  its  beauties 
that  it  seems  far  larger  than  it  is.  Passing  from 
the  front  piazza,  out  through  great  beds  of 
flowers  and  shrubbery,  scenting  the  air  with 
their  fragrance,  you  reach  the  woods  beyond. 
Near  a  narrow  path,  as  you  enter  the  wood,  Sir 
James  has  had  set  up  those  blocks  from  the  city 
gates,  on  which  were  originally  cut  the  names  of 
those  old  portals.  When  the  old  were  torn  away 
for  the  new,  these  "  name  "  blocks  were  given  to 
him,  as  the  one  most  worthy  of  receiving  them.  A 
collection  of  Canadian  birds  and  many  rare  relics 
are  collected  at  this  spot — -a  veritable  sylvan 
museum. 

Near  by  Spencer  Grange  is  Bagatelle,  further 
on  is  Woodfield,  once  one  of  "  the  most  ornate 
and  richly  laid  out  estates  around  Quebec,"  and 
Roslin,  the  elegant  home  of  Lieut. -Colonel  J.  B. 

79 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Forsyth,  the  Collector  of  Customs  at  Quebec. 
Many  other  beautiful  and  historical  homes  are 
seen  further  along  to  the  west,  toward  and 
beyond  Sillery.  Bardfield,  the  late  Bishop 
Mountain's  country  seat,  is  now  owned  by 
Albert  Henry  Furniss  of  pleasant  memory. 
Benmorc,  once  the  home  of  the  greatest  nimrod 
in  Canada,  Colonel  Rhodes  ;  Clarcmont,  founded 
by  Lieutenant-Governor  R.  E.  Caron,  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  now  owned  by 
Lieut. -Colonel  Turnbull.     Next  is 

Beauvoir, 

built  by,  and  since  occupied  by  many  an  honor- 
able, but  none  more  so,  than  its  present  owner 
and  occupant,  Hon.  R.  R.  Dobell,  brother  of  my 
friend,  Alfred  Dobell,  of  Liverpool,  one  of  the 
great  timber  merchants  of  the  world. 

Beauvoir  deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice, 
since  it  is  one  of  the 

Most  beautiful  homes  in  or  about  Quebec. 

It  is  situated  on  the  crest  of  the  cliffs  of  Sillery 
Cove  (in  which  the  Hon.  Mr.  Dobell  has  his 
timber  industry  located,  and  in  which  is  to  be 
seen  the  monument  he  and  his  employees  and 
other  parishioners  of  Sillery,  erected  to  the 
memory  of  Chevalier  de  Sillery,  and  the  Rev. 
Edward  Masse,  who  figured  so  prominently  in 

80 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  early  days  of  the  settlement  here).  The 
lawn  sweeps  back  a  gentle  rise  to  the  house, 
several  hundred  feet  away.  Every  appointment 
in  and  about  Beauvoir,  is  perfect  from 
Nature,  in  the  great  profusion  of  flowers 
and  shrubbery,  to  the  valuable  marble  statuary, 
and  rare  paintings,  in  art.  In  the  art  gallery 
and  in  the  spacious  halls  are  seen  many  beautiful 
works  from  the  brushes  of  Donovan  Adams, 
Sydney  Cooper,  John  Constable,  and  many 
others,  to  E.  Frith's  John  Knox,  and  Guido 
Reni's  masterpiece,  St.  Sebastian.  Luxury, 
guided  by  the  rare  hand  of  good  taste,  is  seen  in 
every  nook,  restful  and  pleasing.  One  of  the 
most  beautiful  pieces  of  sculpture  I  have  ever 
seen,  is  in  Hon.  Mr,  Dobell's  gallery.  It  is  John 
Adams  Acton's  ''  Lady  of  the  Lake."  The  pose 
is  taken  where  Katherine  stands  in  sad  contem- 
plation, while  the  gentle  hound,  refusing  the 
chase,  leans  afifectionately  against  the  heroine. 
The  statue  is  life  size. 

Here  again  I  exclaim — "  Oh,  for  more  space!" 
Then  come  Tlie  Highlands,  Mcadozvbrook, 
Rosczvood,  Ravemvood,  Longzvood,  and,  zvoiild  I 
had  the  space  to  note  down  all  the  other  beauti- 
ful old  homes  to  be  seen  to  the  West  of  Quebec 
within  a  distance  of  five  miles.  It  is  like  some 
choice  part  picked  from  old  England,  and 
picturesquely  dropped  down  upon  the  banks  of 

8i 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  historic  St.  Lawrence.  If  you  should  come 
to  Quebec, — and  come  you  should,  and  come 
you  will  have  to,  if  you  ever  expect  to  see  the 
most  interesting  spot  in  the  New  World,— you 
should  not  fail  to  drive  out  the  St.  Louis  Road. 
It  will  repay  you,  and  especially  so  if  you  have 
read  LeMoine's  Picturesque  Quebec  before  you 
start.  This  locality  is  in  so  marked  a  contrast 
to  the  many  cottage-bordered  roads,  to  be  seen 
here,  that  one  has  to  wonder  that  both  sorts  are 
in  the  same  country.  The  one  a  continuous 
line  of  white  (color  is  the  exception — white — white 
is  the  miles  of  little  houses  that  line  the  roads  of 
Canada)  the  other  with  country  seats,  so  beauti- 
ful, so  picturesque,  so  fraught  with  lively  interest, 
that  one  instinctively  feels  the  contrast,  and 
enjoys  more  fully  the  scenes.  Yes,  drive  out  St. 
Louis  road. 


THE   LAKES 

To  miss  seeing  the  lakes  to  be  found  in  every 
direction  around  Quebec,  is  to  visit  Switzerland 
and  not  see  its  far  famed  sheets  of  crystal.  Here 
within  the  radius  of  an  easy  drive  are  lakes  Cal- 
vaire,  St.  Charles,  St.  John,  St.  John  Country,  St. 
Joseph,  and 

Lake  Beauport 

When  the   Colonel  had  told   me   of  this  last 
82 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

lake  ;  had  described  its  location  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  Laurentian  Mountains,  far  above  sea  level, 
and  told  me  the  legend  of  the  Algonquin  Chief 
and  his  lost  love,  a  weird  desire  held  me  in  sway, 
until  we  had  driven  tJie  twelve  miles,  north-west 
of  Quebec  to  visit  it. 

We  went  up,  one  beautiful  Saturday  afternoon, 
and  remained  until  Monday  morning.  There 
are  many  places  where  you  may  find  most  excel- 
lent accommodation  all  about,  and  near  the  lake. 
I  find  in  my  note  book  this  little  picture  which 
I  sketched  on  Sunday  morning,  while  the 
Colonel  slept  on,  at  the  hotel  : 

''You  look  to  the  east  across  the  lake,  long  and 
narrow.  The  water  is  still,  scarcely  a  ripple 
moves  its  surface,  the  shadows  of  the  mountains 
on  the  further  shore  mirror  themselves  in  the 
clearness  of  the  lake.  The  sun  is  just  rising 
over  the  high  elevation  and  you  shade  your  eyes 
from  its  slanting  rays,  as  you  paint  the  picture. 
Here  and  there  you  see  a  cleared  spot,  with  a 
farmhouse  set  almost  against  the  face  of  the  hill. 
Nothing  breaks  the  stillness  of  the  morning, 
save  the  tinkling  of  a  bell  of  some  animal,  as 
it  feeds,  far  up  the  valley  across  the  lake,  or  the 
crowing  of  a  cock  hard  by.  The  birds  begin  to 
sing  their  morning  songs,  and  all  life  soon 
becomes  animate.  In  the  very  edge,  nearest 
you,   sits  lightly  a  modern  canoe,  and  you  let 

83 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

your  mind  wander  back  to  the  age,  when  in  its 
place  might  have  been  seen  the  rough  hewn  dug- 
out of  the  Indian.  Miles  away  to  the  left,  in  a 
depression  of  the  range,  can  be  seen  looming  up 
two  towering  peaks,  and  nearer  rising  from  the 
very  edge  of  the  northern  shore,  is  Mount 
Albert,  where  the  legend  locates  the  beautiful, 
but  most  tragic  story  of  the  Algonquins." 

After  breakfast,  with  our  good  friend  J.  P. 
Hicks,  we  were  rowed  out  upon  the  lake,  and 
visited  the  little  camps  that  line  its  borders,  with 
their  rough  unhewn  log  houses,  through  the 
windows  of  which  we  see  the  great  wood  "  fire- 
places," with  bunks  for  the  sleepers.  We  are 
made  to  wish  that  we  might  have  the  time  to 
spend  a  whole  month,  as  inmates,  fishing  for  the 
wily  trout  and  roaming  over  the  surrounding 
hills. 

In  his  odd  looking  boat  in  the  middle  of  the 
lake,  we  came  across 

The  lone  fisherman  of  the  Lake, 

James  Heal.  He  is  a  unique  character,  and 
worthy  of  more  than  a  passing  line.  He  is  a 
veteran  of  the  Crimea,  and  has  to  his  service 
credit,  twenty-two  years  of  fighting  and  camp 
life.  I  said  he  was  unique.  He  is  one  of  the 
rare  old  soldiers,  who  lay  no  claim  to  having, 
in  any  of  their  many  fights,  turned  the  tide  of 

84 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

battle.  "  No,  I've  done  no  deed  of  valor,"  said 
he,  "  I  just  tried  to  do  my  duty.  Shot  when  in 
line,  and  ran  when  I  had  to.  History  wouldn't 
have  been  changed  a  bit,  even  though  I  had 
never  lived."  Unique  old  man,  unassuming, 
but  in  war,  I  should  never  have  chosen  him  as 
an  antagfonist. 


The  Lone  Fisherman  of  Lake  Beauport,  from  a  photograph 
taken  by  lilt'e  IMiss  Viola  P.  of  Quebec. 

That  afternoon,  as  the  Colonel  and  I  sat  on  the 
border  of  the  lake,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Albert, 
I  asked  him  to  tell  me  an  Indian  story.  Tell 
me,  Horatius,  the 

Legend  of  the  Lake. 

Without  preliminary  he  began  : 

'*  Intcndant  Bigot  was  not  the  only  profligate 

«5 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

sent  out  to  New  France,  from  the  Mother 
Country.  There  was  one  whose  trail,  legend 
says,  was  marked  by  many  a  tragedy,  fully  as  sad 
as  ever  was  credited  to  that  other  wicked  man. 
He  built  a  great  house  here  on  this  lake,  and 
surrounded  himself  with  retainers  little  less 
profligate  than  himself.  His  incursions  extend- 
ed over  a  vast  territory,  and  tribute  exacted  from 
friend  and  foe.  No  ties  were  sacred  to  him.  No 
matter  the  home,  if  it  contained  that  which 
pleased  his  fancy,  it  was  ruthlessly  robbed  of  it, 
and  brought  to  his  Bacchanalian  halls,  where  all 
hope  ceased,  for  his  power  was  absolute. 

Far  away  on  the  St.  Lawrence  dwelt  the 
Algonquins.  A  young  chief  of  the  tribe  wooed 
and  won  the  heart  of  the  old  chieftain's  daugh- 
ter. Loroline.  They  had  played  together  in 
childhood,  along  the  streams,  and  were  ever 
inseparable  and  happy.  When  as  a  child  a  rare 
flower  or  feather  was  found,  the  little  Indian 
boy  brought  it  to  Loroline,  to  deck  her  hair,  and 
when  he  had  grown  to  manhood,  he  asked  her 
hand  in  marriage,  but  the  stern  old  chief,  her 
father,  refused  his  consent  unless  the  lover 
should  bring  to  him  the  proof,  that  an  ancient 
enemy  of  his  were  dead.  This  enemy  was 
sought  far  and  wide  by  the  young  chief,  but 
sought  in  vain,  until  three  years  had  passed, 
when  in  a  far  away  country,  the  two  met  face  to 
86 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

face  in  a  lone  forest.  The  old  enemy  had  long 
known  of  the  Algonquin's  search  for  him,  and 
prepared  to  defend  his  life.  Spurred  on  by  his 
hope  of  at  last  gaining  the  hand  of  the  gentle 
maiden,  and  by  the  thought  of  the  years  of  fruit- 
less going  to  and  fro,  his  young  arm,  the  elder 
could  not  withstand,  and  he  was  slain.  No 
Knight  Errant  of  old  ever  sought  again '  the 
hand  he  had  fairly  won,  as  did  the  young  Algon- 
quin. Travel  as  he  might,  the  distance  was  so 
great  that  many  weeks  had  passed,  ere  he 
reached  the  home  of  her,  whom  he  had  fought  to 
win.  What  was  his  sadness  on  reaching  the 
home  of  the  old  Algonquin  Chief,  to  find  that 
Loroline  had  long  been  lost.  No  one  knew 
ought  of  her,  save  that  she  had  gone  from  home 
and  had  never  returned.  The  whole  tribe  had 
sought  for  her  in  vain.  The  grief  of  the  young 
chief  was  great.  Without  stopping  to  rest  from 
his  long  wanderings,  he  set  out  in  search  for  her, 
as  he  had  never  before  searched.  He  went  up 
and  down  the  mountain  passes,  sought  for  her 
in  the  forests,  along  the  streams,  ever  calling, 
calling,  for  his  love.  One  day  he  chanced  to 
come  upon  a  castle,  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  in 
a  far  away  country.  Why,  he  knew  not,  but  he 
felt  that  he  was  near  the  object  of  his  search. 
Day  after  day  he  wandered  about,  hoping  ever 
that  Loroline  might  be  seen,    for    he    was  now 

87 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

certain  that  she  was  within  the  castle.  Weeks 
passed  away,  but  he  seemed  to  be  hoping  in 
vain.  The  revelry  at  night  was  past  his  under- 
standing. The  sun  oft  rose  ere  the  sound  of 
the  Bacchanalian  songs  were  hushed.  The  days 
were  still,  but  at  night  the  revelry  began  again. 
New  faces  came  and  went.  Soldiers  in  uniform, 
young  men  of  proud  mien,  with  debauchery 
marking  their  faces,  were  of  the  number.  Aye 
and  women,  too,  were  there,  fairer  women  than 
he  had  ever  dreamed  of;  beautiful  as  his  concep- 
tion of  beings  about  whom  the  good  priest  had 
told  him,  dwelt  in  the  paradise  of  the  white  man. 
But  in  all  the  number  that  came  and  went,  he 
ne'er  found  the  face  of  her  whose  beauty,  to  his 
heart,  surpassed  all  others,  and  yet  he  knew  he 
was  near  her.  One  day  a  great  cavalcade  left 
the  castle,  and  watching  for  a  moment  when  all 
about  was  still,  the  young  chief  boldly  entered 
grasping  his  knife  firmly  that  he  be  not  suddenly 
set  upon.  He  wandered  unmolested  from  room 
to  room,  until  he  reached  a  part  of  the  castle 
that  seemed  to  be  unused.  He  came  to  a  door 
that  was  bolted  from  within.  He  stopped  t^j 
plan  his  next  move,  when  he  heard  a  soft  moan 
beyond  the  bolted  door.  He  listens  and  hears 
in  the  Algonquin  tongue  :  '  Oh  why,  why  this 
awful  suspense  !  Day  after  day  he  puts  me  off 
with  promises  for  the  morrow  !     I  cannot  endure 

8S 


FALLS  OF  MONTMORENCY 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

it!  Oh  that  I  might  die  and  rest,  rest.'  What 
means  that  awful  grief  ?  'LoroHne,  Loro- 
line  !'  softly  calls  the  Indian.  The  sob- 
bing ceases.  He  hears  a  movement  within, 
the  bolt  gently  slides  back,  and  there  before  him 
stands  the  object  of  his  long  search.  Stands  as 
a  statue  !  Her  long  black  hair  unkempt,  and 
falling  nearly  to  her  knees.  No  sign  of  recog- 
nition is  on  her  face  ;  no  glad  arms  encircle  his 
neck  ;  no  lover's  kiss  is  his.  '  Loroline,  Loro- 
Hne, have  you  no  greeting  for  me?  No  welcome 
after  all  these  years  of  waiting  ?'  The  cold 
statue  simply  stares  back  at  him  and  answers. 
'  No — none.'  As  a  lightning  flash  the  long 
knife  finds  the  heart  which  he  had  lost,  and 
Loroline  found  her  '  Rest,  rest,'  There  in  the 
lake,  when  the  ice  of  Spring  had  broken  up,  was 
found  the  body  of  the  young  lover,  and  the  two 
lie  here,  some  where,  together  in  a  lone  un- 
named, unmarked  grave." 

TRIP    TO    THE     FALLS     OF    MONT- 
MORENCY. 

The  Colonel  called  it  the  "  Peace  D.  Resis- 
tance," but  could  not  tell  me  what  he  meant  by 
it.  He  said  he  thought  it  was  French  or  Latin, 
at  any  rate,  he  had  heard  nearly  everybody  use 
it,  when  speaking  of  Montmorency  falls.  When 
89 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

I  looked  at  them  in  all  the  admiration  I  could 
command  at  the  moment,  I  told  the  Colonel 
plainly  that  I  had  no  fault  to  find  with  "  Every- 
body," no  matter  what  was  meant  by  the 
expression.  I  won't  spoil  the  view  by  an 
attempted  description.  I  simply  say  to  you, 
who  come  to  Quebec, 

Go  see  the  Falls. 

You  will  behold  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water,  pour- 
ing over  a  ledge  of  rock,  loo  feet  higher  than 
our  own  great  Niagara,  not  so  broad,  of  course, 
but  a  greater  plunge.  Don't  stop  here,  but 
follow  up  the  bank  of  the  river,  that  flows 
through  a  deep  depression  in  the  hills,  until  you 
have  gone  possibly  a  mile  above.  Pick  your 
way  down  a  well  beaten  path,  lOO  feet,  until  you 
have  again  reached  the  stream,  and  you  will 
look  upon  a  freak  of  nature,  found  nowhere  else 
among  its  great  and  curious  works. 

The  Natural  Steps 

This  is  a  name  that  will  hardly  convey  to  your 
mind  correctly,  the  view  that  will  greet  your 
eyes,  as  you  look  upon  the  quarter  of  a  mile  of 
the  river's  bed,  where  for  untold  ages  the  waters 
have  cut  away,  and  chisseled  out  of  the  flakev 
rocks,  a  series  of  steps,  as  for  the  entrance  way 
to  a  giant's  castle.       The  river  at  this  place  has 

92 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

left  the  "  steps  "  high  and  dry,  and  has  cut  down, 
a  sheer  depthof  43  feet  or  more,  on  the  north  side 
of  the  bed,  and  as  you  look  over  the  edge  you 
see  it  go  seething  and  foaming,  and  ever  cutting 
the  channel  further  back.  The  rocky  wall 
beyond  the  stream  rises  perpendicular,  with  layers 
so  regular  that  one  could  almost  believe  it  had 
been  laid  by  some  giant  mason  of  prehistoric 
time. 

If  Quebec  had  no  other  charm, 

for  the  tourist  than  those  of  ^Montmorency,  they 
would  amply  repay  him  for  a  long  journey. 

H.  M.  Price. 

Near  to,  and  overlooking  the  Falls,  is  the 
home  of  that  genial  host,  Mr.  H.  M.  Price, 
whose  hospitality  is  confined  to  no  land.  Here 
have  visited  those  whose  names  have  made 
history,  or  whose  writings  have  found  their  way 
into  the  best  literature  of  the  world.  A  few 
names  culled  from  the  autographs  here  seen 
are  Princess  Louise,  the  Hon.  Joseph  Chamber- 
Jain,  Lords  Lome,  Swarssea,  Landsdowni, 
Hcrschell,  Playfair,  Raleigh  and  Pauncefotc  ; 
Counts  de  Levis,  de  Turin,  and  Princes  Roland 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  and  Loewcnstein.  killed 
early  in  our  Philippine  war  near  Manilla,  Due 
and  Duchess  de  Beaufort  antl  many  others,  one 

95 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

of  whom  is  our  well  known  Captain  E.  L.  Zelin- 
ski,  a  special  friend  of  the  host  ;  whilst  among 
the  men  of  letters  who  have  here  found  entertain- 
ment are  Archdeacon  Farrar,  Sir  James  M. 
LeMoine,  Wm.  Kirby,  Gilbert  Parker,  Joachim 
Miller,  Justin  McCarthy,  and  a  host  of  others 
whose  names  are  familiar. 

To  wander  through  these  old  halls,  to  see  the 
relics  of  other  centuries, — here  a  cannon  from  the 
French  Admiral's  flagship,  sunk  at  Lewisburg 
by  Wolfe's  fleet  in  1757  ;  piles  of  cannon  balls 
from  the  many  sieges  of  Quebec,  and  hundreds 
of  other  things  of  historic  interest,  was  indeed 
a  rare  pleasure. 

We  pass  out  through  the  flower  gardens  and 
beautiful  grounds,  planned  by  Mrs.  Price,  a  lady 
of  rare  culture  and  genial  manner,  over  a  walk 
that  leads  out  to  the  summer  house,  built  almost 
over  the  Falls,  where  a  view  of  great  beauty 
greets  the  eye.  This  little  house  is  of  historic 
interest. 

Madame  de  Riedsel, 

wife  of  the  General  who  commanded  the  Hessian 
troops  during  the  American  war,  was  one  day 
standing  with  General  Haldimand,  looking  over 
the  Falls,  when  she  suggested,  "  What  a  location 
for  a  summer  house  !"  On  her  next  visit,  some 
weeks  after,  the  General  led  her  out  to  the  same 
96 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

spot,  where  stood  the  house  built  at  her  sugges- 
tion. A  short  distance  above  where  this  little 
house  now  stands,  in  August,  1759,  a  French 
sentry  stood  and  shot  at  Captain  Knox  (author 
of  Knox's  Journal)  of  General  Wolfe's  army, 
who  was  taking  notes  on  the  Falls,  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  river,  but  fortunately  the  Captain 
retired  from  view,  in  time  to  save  his  life.  At 
that  time  the  army  of  Wolfe  was  on  the  east,  and 
that  of  Montcalm,  on  the  west,  of  the  Mont- 
morency. Even  to  this  day  the  old  entrench- 
ments are  to  be  plainly  seen  all  about  the  Falls. 

The  piers  of  the  suspension  bridge  which  once 
spanned  the  Montmorency,  are  standing  yet,  on 
the  ledge,  almost  over  the  falls.  The  bridge 
itself  broke,  and  fell,  in  1856,  carrying  down, 
and  over  the  Falls,  a  peasant  and  his  wife  who 
were  crossing  at  the  time  in  a  cart. 

Not  far  from  Mr.  Price's  house,  is 


Haldimand  House, 

97 


The  Yankee  in  Quehee. 

built  about  1780,  by  General  Haldimand.  It 
was  the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Kent,  father  of 
Queen  Victoria.  It  was  here  he  spent  three 
summers  at  the  end  of  the  i8th  century,  residing 
in  winter  at  the  "  Kent  House "  on  St.  Louis 
street. 


AMERICANS  IN  QUEBEC. 

Sitting  at  the  hotel  table  shortly  after  reaching 
the  city,  I  chanced  to  speak  to  a  gentleman  at 
my  left  and  was  surprised  and  pleased  to  find 
him  Mr.  R.  E.  French,  from  Medina,  Ohio— my 
home  State, — but  my  surprise  grew  when  he 
introduced  me  to  Mr.  J.  A.  Warren,  from  the 
same  Ohio  town.  While  talking  together — the 
three  remaining  people  at  the  table  hearing  our 
conversation,  turned  in  their  reports, — one  from 
Detroit,  the  other  two  from  Chicago.  I  felt  as 
happy  as  one  night  years  ago, 

While  camping  on  a  small  creek  in  Kansas, 

where  eight  different  ''  freighters  "  had  turned  in 
for  the  night.  As  soon  as  the  camp  fires  were 
started  and  we  were  all  seated  around  for  the 
songs  and  stories,  we  began,  by  comparing  notes, 
and  to  the  one  question,  "  where  are  you  from?" 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

seven  of  the  eight  answered  with  a  will,  "Ohio." 
The  Colonel  says  : 

**  Ohio  is  a  good  place  to  be  born 

in  if  you  don't  have  to  keep  it,"  but  the  Colonel 
is  liable  to  say  anything. 

But  speaking  of  R.  E.  French,  he  is  known 
down  in  Ohio,  not  as  a  "  Sugar  King,"  but  as 
the  "  French  Maple  Syrup  Prince."  He  is  an 
example  of  what  a  man  can  be  by  honest  dealing. 
In  this  age  when  much  of  the  pure  old  foods 
are  so  mixed  that  you  can't  even  recognize  your 
dearest  friend  among  them,  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
feel  that  you  know  a  man  who  could  not  be 
induced  for  any  amount  to  change  from  its 
purity  this  same  "  dearest  friend,"  as  to  me  maple 
syrup  is.  Not  so  much,  perhaps,  in  itself,  as 
for  old  memory  sake.  Why,  the  very  last 
"  thrashing "  I  ever  got  was  one  that  father 
forgot  to  give  me  for  letting  burn  a  whole  kettle 
of  syrup  that  day  the  McFarland  boy  from 
Westville,  came  down  with  his  father  to  attend 
''  quarterly  meeting."  Yes,  I  used  to  attend 
camp — "  tapped  "  the  trees — boiled  the  "  sap  " — 
yes,  and  burned  the  syrup.  Fll  never  forget  my 
entry  into  the  life  of  a  sugar  maker — I  tapped 
first  one  tree,  carried  the  sap  in  a  bucket  a  half 
mile  to  the  house,  and  in  saving  up  enough  for  a 
"  boiling,"  let  it  all   "  sour,"  and  lost  a  week's 

99 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

hard  work.  We  used  to  go  up  to  "Aunt 
Rachel's,  the  one  I  told  you  about  in  "  My 
Friend  Bill,"  and  she  always  had  pancakes  and 
maple  syrup.  My,  my,  but  the  memory  is  a  sweet 
one,  although  more  years  have  passed  since  than 
I  like  to  think  of  as  gone.  Who  among  you 
but  has  had  some  experience  in  either  "  tending 
camp,"  or  visiting  one  in  the  early  spring  !  But 
like  many  another  sweet  memory  of  childhood 
the  camp  of  the  syrup  maker  is  often  a  memory 
only.  The  camp  on  the  old  Ohio  farm  at  home, 
the  last  time  I  was  there,  was  a  cornfield,  not  a 
tree  was  left,  but  I  could  shut  my  eyes  and  see 
them  all,  and  all  in  their  old  places.  Many  of 
the  boys  who  came  down  to  ''  help  "  have  long 
ago  gone,  like  the  trees.  Some  have  been  trans- 
planted in  far  away  lands,  and  too  many,  alas,  are 
gone  forever.  I  asked  French  what  he  was 
doing  up  here,  and  he  said  so  many  of  the  camps 
in  the  States  had  been  like  ours  at  home,  cut 
away,  and  that  he  was  looking  for  a  new  supply, 
and  Canada  is  the  one  great  field  left.  French 
must  have  had  an  inspiration  when  he  chose  for 
his  emblem  of  purity  a  bottle  made  like  a  section 
of  a  maple  tree.  It's  odd  and  appropos  and  one 
that  cannot  be  forgotten, 

After  this  meeting  at  dinner,  I  asked  Horatius 
if  there   were  many  Americans   in   Quebec.       I 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

didn't  mean  visitors,  as  I  knew  by  the  throngs 
at  all  the  hotels  that  the  city  was  full  of  them. 
"  Yes,  said  the  Colonel,  "  our  country  is  well 
represented,"  and  he  took  me  at  once  to  meet 
our  Consul, 

General  Wm.  W.  Henry, 

who  is  just  finishing  his  fourth  year,  with  a  re- 
appointment for  another  four  years  term.  This 
proves  the  esteem  in  which  he  is  held  by  our 
Government,  while  I  find  on  all  sides  here  very 
much  satisfaction  with  him.  In  fact  he  and  his 
estimable  wife  are  great  favorites.  He  is  a 
most  genial,  efificient  officer.  The  General  is 
from  Vermont.  During  the  Rebellion  he  was 
Colonel  of  the  loth  Regiment  of  that  State,  and 
I  find  on  reading  up  his  war  record,  great  reason 
for  his  having  been  promoted  from  Lieutenant 
up  through  the  various  offices  to  Brigadier- 
General.  When  I  wrote  that  other  Vermont 
friend  of  mine,  B.  H.  Albee,  and  told  him  that 
I  had  met  his  friend.  General  Henry,  and  that  I 
had  found  him  such  an  all-round  good  citizen 
that  I  could  hardly  realize  he  was  from  Vermont 
instead  of  Ohio,  I  got  in  return,  this  character- 
istic letter  from 

That  humorist  from  Vermont. 

"  Your  reference  to  W.  W.  Henry  suggests  what 
I   have   frequently   noticed   before.       There   are 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

only  two  States  you  ever  hear  of  outside  of  their 
own  borders — Vermont  and  Ohio — I  put  Ver- 
mont first  merely  because  it  is  older  than  Ohio, 
but  for  that  reason,  I  might  add,  parenthetically, 
that  it  is  probably  no  "  fresher."  Not  that  I 
think  Ohio  is  fresh,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think 
everybody  will  agree  with  the  proposition  that 
it  is  "  nervy."  There  are  not  so  many  Vermont 
people  in  office  as  there  are  Buckeyes,  but  the 
sole  reason  is  that  there  is  not  so  many  of  them. 
I  presume  you  have  heard  me  remark  that  there 
were  only  two  men  in  Washington  public  life 
who  always  get  what  they  want,  One  is  Sena- 
tor   ,  of     Ohio,    and    the    other    Senator 

,  of  Vermont.     It  will  pay  you  to  keep 

close  to  General  Henry.  He  is  a  typical  Green 
Mountain  Boy,  but  I  do  think  someone  ought 
to  warn  the  authorities  that  a  Vermonter  and 
an  Ohioan  have  formed  an  alliance.  In  this 
country  that  would  mean  securing  all  there  was 
in  the  bakery  and  then  lugging  away  the  bakery. 
This  is  no  particular  allusion  to  the  residents  of 
Vermont  and  Ohio.  But  it  happens  in  this 
instance.  I  know  both  parties  to  the  case.  Me- 
thinks  I  scent  danger  to  someone  or  something. 
"  If  some  new  office  should  be  created  by  Con- 
gress at  the  coming  Session,  it  is  a  safe  bet,  that 
either  a  Vermonter  or  an  Ohioan  would  get  it. 
For  instance  they  created  some  new  offices  in  the 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Philippines.  Judge  Taft,  an  Ohioan,  was  made 
head  of  the  Commission.  Mason  S.  Stone,  a 
Vermonter,  was  made  superintendent  of  schools, 
the  two  most  important  offices  in  the  Islands. 
I  haven't  heard  of  their  stealing  the  Island  yet. 
But  you  will  recall  that  they  sent  some  Hoosiers 
down  to  Cuba  in  various  official  positions,  and 
so  far  as  anybody  has  been  able  to  learn  the  only 
thing  they  did  leave  was  the  Island.  There  is 
some  evidence  to  prove  that  they  had  plans  laid 
to  bring  that  to  New  York  and  sell  it  for  a 
summer  resort. 

"  It  is  said  that  English  people  have  always 
regarded  a  Vermonter  with  suspicion.  I  think 
they  have,  too,  because  I  have  noticed  that  they 
always  examine  a  Vermonter's  baggage  when- 
ever he  goes  into  the  Dominion. 
''  Sorry  I'm  not  in  a  letter-writing  humor  to-day 
— the  house  burned  down  yesterday,  and  Willie 
broke  his  arm,  and — but  why  bother  you  with 
my  little  troubles." 

After  our  call  on  the  Consul,  the  Colonel  said: 
"  We  will  now  go  down  to  the 

IT.    S.   Innnigration   Commission   OjBB.ce. 

"  What's  that  ?"  I  asked.  "  Why,  don't  you 
know  that  every  innnigrant  that  enters  this  port 
for  the  United  States  has  to  pass  an  examina- 
tion?" 

103 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  No,  I  don't,  how  would  I  know  ?  I  didn't 
think  we'd  have  a  right  to  come  up  here  and 
say  who  could  and  who  couldn't  land." 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  Canadian  Government  are  quite 
willing-,  and  show  our  Commission  all  the  courte- 
sies we  could  wish.  The  Canadian  Pacific  R.  R. 
have  even  built  a  commodious  immigrant  house, 
in  which  the  examinations  are  held." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  office,  but 
found  no  one  in  but  Dave  Lehrhaupt,  the  Inter- 
preter, from  Detroit,  Mich.  The  others,  whom 
I  met  afterwards,  as  you  shall  see,  are  John  Tho- 
mas, Commissioner,  from  Ohio;  Colonel  Horace 
M.  Deal,  (who  had  served  both  terms  on 
Governor  McKinley's  staff),  also  from  Ohio  ;  Dr. 
Victor  G.  Heiser,  of  the  Marine  Hospital  Service, 
R.  W.  Conradson,  of  Brooklyn  ;  J.  P.  Hicks,  of 
Mass.;  P.  Enright,  of  Chicago;  Wm.  Vaughan 
Howard,  Statistician,  of  Miss.;  and  John  Conk- 
lin,  of  Harrisburg,  Penn. 

Rube  becomes  an  immigrant. 

I  was  so  much  interested  in  this  new  business 
that  I  got  permission  to  see  them  examine  a 
shipload  of  immigrants.  The  Colonel  not  being 
able  to  get  away  from  his  office,  that  day,  turned 
me  over  to  Dave  Lehrhaupt.  Dave  was  a 
character,  — the  life  of  the  Commission, — but 
before  we  started  down  I  noticed  the  Colonel 
104 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

and  Dave  talking  very  animatedly  together  back 
in  one  corner. 

The  Colonel  and  Dave  conspire. 

Every  once  in  a  while  they'd  look  over  toward 
me,  Dave  protesting  with  the  Colonel  about 
something,  and  the  Colonel  assuring  Dave  that 
it  would  be  all  right.  I  heard  him  say  :  "  You 
do  that  now  Dave,  it  will  be  great  !  Don't  let 
the  others  know  it,  whatever  you  do." 

Rube  is  "  it." 

I  had  no  notion  at  the  time  that  I  was  "  it,"  but 
later  developments  showed  that  I  was,  with  a 
large  ''  I."  When  they  had  finished  that  con- 
versation, Dave  said  to  me  :  '*  Rube,  I'll  see  you 
vusn't  kit  lost  mit — cum  vit  me  to  te  sheep,  vat 
is  shust  in,  und  I  vill  show  you  how  ve  oxamina- 
tion  tern  Emicrationers." 

I  "  cum  wit  Tave " — all  the  way  down  he 
"  oxsplained  apout  tern  new  sitizens." 

When  we  reached  that  great  immigrant  house 
and  found  about  300  of  the  worst  specimens  of 
humanity  I  ever  saw,  I  asked  Dave  what  they 
were,  and  he  told  me  if  I'd  name  them,  I  might 
have  them.  The  inducement  wasn't  great 
enough  for  a  guess,  so  I  let  it  go.  There  they 
were,  huddled  together  like  so  many  goats. 
Dave  took  me  around  back,  and  left  me  in  the 


I 


IC5 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

great  room,  with  this  awful  congregation,  or 
aggregation  or 

Conglomeration  of  nations, 

and  went  around  in  front  and  took  a  seat  with 
the  men,  whom  I  learned  afterwards  were  the 
rest  of  the  Commission. 

You  should  have  seen  Dave  handle  the  dif- 
ferent languages  that  flowed  by  him.  He 
mightn't  be  up  in  English,  but  when  it  came  to 
handling  a  cargo  of  European  jargon,  it  couldn't 
come  too  fast  for  Dave. 

Rube  tries  to  get  out. 

While  the  examinations  progressed,  all  too 
slowly  for  me,  I  tried  to  get  out,  but  every  door 
was  locked  or  guarded.  I  tried  to  get  up  to 
where  Dave  was,  but  some  burly  bewhiskered 
wretch  from  "  Noman's  Land,"  would  yell  at  me, 
and  crowd  me  back,  and  say  in  his  tongue — I 
suppose — "  Keep  your  place  in  line,"  which  I 
found  impossible  for  a  good  many  reasons,  to  do, 
so  in  despair,  I  went  to  the  furthest  end  of  the 
great  room,  and  disconsolately  sat  down  on  a 
bench,  and  waited  for  three  hours,  until  that  hall 
was  empty,  then  in  half  a  dozen  languages,  I  was 
told  to  come  on  ! 

"  My  but  I  was  glad  to  get  out," 

"  Get  out'";  did  I  say  ?  well,  hardly  !     The  first 
io6 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

man  who  stopped  me  was  the  doctor — "  Here, 
here,  what  are  you  doing  ?  Stop  that  !"  said  I 
indignantly,  as  he  began  striking  me,  as  though 
to  find  if  I  was  sound,  but  do  you  beheve  it,  he 
kept  it  up — looked  at  my  eyes,  wanted  me  to 
open  my  mouth — which  I  did  in  full  force,  but 
he  paid  no  attention  to  my  protestations,  further 
than  to  say 

"  I'm  afraid  this  man.  is  '  off '  " 

tapping  his  head — "  we'll  have  to  hold  him  for 
examination,"  and  the  more  I  protested  the 
more  convinced  the  Doctor  became.  But  he 
pushed  me  along  to  a  line  of  men,  who  sat  there 
with  Dave,  who  acted  as  though  he  had  never 
seen  me  before.  ''  Here,  Dave,"  said  I,  "  what 
does  this  mean  ?"  and  that  wretch  answered  me 
back  in  one  of  his  fourteen  languages,  while  Pat 
Enright,  wanted  to  know  how  old  I  was,  where 
I  was  born, 

Mormon  or  Gentile  P 

married  or  single,  how  many  children  I  had, 
and  where  they  were.  If  I  had  any  money — if 
so  show  it — "  No,"  said  I  "  I  left  my  pocketbook 
at  the  hotel,  forgot  it." 

Hold  this  man  and  send  him  back. 

he's  liable  to  become  a  public  charge  !"      Worse 

and   worse.     Next   that   Jfihn   Conkling  began  : 

107 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  Man  or  Matron  ?  What's  your  business  ? 
Have  you  had  the  measles  ?  Did  they  leave  you 
in  good  health  ?  Teeth  your  own  or  store 
goods  ?"  ''  Gentlemen,  I  am  an  American 
citizen,  and  I  protest  this  indignity."  "  Where's 
your  papers  ?"  asked  J.  P.  Hicks.  "  Haven't 
any — don't  need  any."  "  Now  see  here,"  said 
Conradson,  "  We've  had  enough  of  this  !  Send 
it  back  !  Its  a  clear  case  !  Look  at  that  eye — 
why  it  is  really  dangerous — worst  case  we've 
had."      And  I  "It!" 

"  Here,  officer,  see  that  this  man  is  well  cared 
for,  until  the  next  ship  goes  back  ;  we've  got  to 
deport  him,"  and  again  the  doctor  tapped  his 
head. 

**  Dave,  Dave,  help  me  out  !  I'm  '  It ' — I'll 
give  the 

Dinner  to  the  Commission. 

The  apologies  on  all  sides  were  so  humble  and 
the  dinner  so  good,  that  I  forgave  them — especi- 
ally as  I  knew  they  were  right  in  saying  that  it 
was  all  the  fault  of  ''  That  Dave  Lehrhaupt," 
who  in  turn  never  seemed  to  forget  "  Tot  tay 
vat  Rupe  vas  got  oxaminationed  mit  tem  groud 
of  emigrationers." 


io8 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
OUR  AMERICAN  CUSTOMS, 

are  well  looked  after  at  this  port  by  L.  L.  Penni- 
man,  F.  W.  Elkins  and  H.  F.  Titus,  all  of 
Vermont.  The  Colonel  couldn't  understand 
how  these  positions  got  away  from  Ohio.  He 
was  all  the  while  having  a  great  deal  to  say 
about  the 

"  Buckeye  "  in  Office, 

but  couldn't  help  admitting  that  the  "  Buckeye  " 
knew  how  to  run  his  own  State — and  whenever 
called  upon  (which  was  often) — all  the  others 
quite  as  well — Queer  how  a  fellow  will  fight  for 
his  native  state.  He  may  have  "  left  it  for  years," 
as  I  have  done,  but  the  old  love  still  clings. 

I  would  be  derelict  of  duty  were  I  to  leave 
out  that  prince  of  good  fellows, 

Colonel  Thos.   Crockett 

our  Vice-Consul,  at  Riviere  du  Loup,  known  up 
here  as  the  "  Cedar  Tie  King  of  Canada." 
Some  men  you  like  as  soon  as  you  meet  them. 
Colonel  Crockett  is  one  of  that  sort.  I  was 
greatly  entertained  by  his  story  of 

SENATOR  PROCTOR'S  MOOSE  HUNT. 

I  can't  tell  it  like  he  did,  and  won't  spoil  it  by 
trying,  but  one  point  is  too  good  to  leave  out. 
The  Senator  came  up  from  Washington,  especi- 

109 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

ally  for  this  hunt.  The  first  night  they  got  a 
moose — and  the  next  day  another.  That 
evening  the  Colonel  told  Proctor  he  must  go  out 
alone  in  the  boat,  with  the  guide,  that  he  might 
have  all  the  credit  for  the  "  head  "  if  one  were 
gotten.  As  luck  would  have  it  the  Senator 
soon  came  in  with  a  fine  bull  moose.  "  Happy  ? 
You  never  saw  a  prouder  hunter  than  the  Sena- 
tor, when  he  came  into  camp  that  night.  He 
never  earned  a  million  that  brought  as  much 
real  pleasure  !  I  could  hardly  get  him  to  stop 
enjoying  himself  long  enough  to  go  to  bed — As 
it  was  along  about  two  o'clock  next  morning,  I 
heard  the  Senator  stirring.  I  didn't  move,  but 
looked  out  from  under  my  blanket.  There  was 
the  Senator  sitting  bolt  upright  on  his  narrow 
camp  bed,  near  me.  I  could  see  him  shiver,  as 
it  was  in  the  fall,  and  quite  cool.  First  thing  I 
knew,  the  Senator  began  talking  to  himself  : 
'Oh,  how  cold  I  am  !  But,  oh,  how  happy.' 
At  that  he  lay  down,  covered  up,  and  didn't 
move  till  morning.  That  was  years  ago,  but  the 
Senator  can  never  get  over  the  pleasures  of  that 
moose  hunt." 

Our  Vice-Consul  at  Quebec,  is  that  popular 
General  Passenger  Agent, 

F.  S.  Stocking. 

It  is  really  a  pleasure,  to  see  the  selections  our 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Government  has  made,  in  its  officers,  to  repre- 
sent our  interests  in  this  country. 


CAP  ROUGE  VIA  STE,  FOYE  ROAD. 

"  Rube,"  said  the  Colonel,  early  one  morning, 
"  we  are  going  out  to  Cap  Rouge  to-day.  You 
know,  we  promised  Fairchild  we'd  come." 
"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  that  artist  friend  of  his — 
what's  his  name,  oh,  I  have  it,  or  had  it,  but 
have  promised  to  forget  it."  I  wasn't  going  to 
let  the  Colonel  forget  it,  though,  as  I  had  heard 
so  much  of  his  magnificent  "  Sunsets  on  the  St. 
Lawrence,"  his  "Autumns  "  and  "  still  lifes  " — 
and  then,  on  this  last  line,  he,  I  remembered  had 
said,  the  day  we  met  him  in  town,  that  he  had 
some  thirty  years  old. — No,  it  would  be  too  bad 
not  to  see and  his  "Autumns." 

The  tourist  who  goes  to  Quebec  and  does 
not  dirve  out  the  Ste.  Foye  road,  would  be  as 
foolish  as  the  man  who  goes  to  Rome  and  leaves 
out  St.  Peter's.  I've  driven  over  more  roads 
than  would  circle  the  earth  if  it  was  not  a  tenth 
as  large  as  it  is,  and  Ste.  Foye  is  the  prettiest 
one  of  all  the  number.  Now  as  this  is  an  honest 
expression,  I  need  not  stop  to  tell  you  that  the 
view  to  the  north,  from  the  time  you  leave  the 
city,  until    you    reach    Cap    Rouge,    nine  miles 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

away,  is  one  line  of  beauty.  You  know,  you 
often  see  in  any  country,  here  and  there,  bits  of 
fine  scenery,  but  to  drive  along  Ste.  Foye  road,  is 
as  though  driving  by 

A  nine  mile  canvas 

on  which  had  been  painted  all  these  bits. 

The  day  I  met  G.  M.  Fairchild,  Jr.,  I  some- 
how located  him  in  a  perfect  nest  of  comfort  at 
Raven's  Cliff 

My  mental  location  was  vivid,  but  far  away  from 
the  real  beauty  of  that  location,  two  hundred 
feet  above  the  St.  Lawrence,  on  a  hill  that  gently 
rises  from  the  river  bank  to  the  St.  Louis  road, 
and  quite  near  to  the  village  of  Cap  Rouge.  As 
we  looked  out  upon  the  view,  from  the  long 
wide  piazza,  one  could  not  but  feel  that  Gilbert 
Parker  had  chosen  well  the  home  for  writing  his 
great  story, 

The  Seats  of  the  Mighty 

and  later  on,  we  could  not  but  again  commend 
his  fine  choice — this  time — that  of  the  heroine 
of  one  of  his  great  novels.  We  found  the  author 
— poet — artist,  busily  engaged  on  a  painting,  he 
was  "  laying  "  in.  All  about  him  was  indication 
of  a  busy  man,  but  with  all  his  literary  and 
artistic  work,  he  has  allowed  his  neighbors  to 
choose   him   as   the   village  magistrate,   and  for 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

so  many  other  offices,  that  I  instinctively 
thought  of  my  "  cousin  "  Ross  of  Lorette. 

It  is  visits  to  such  homes  as  Raven's  Qiffe, 
that  make  the  writer  of  many  homes,  views  and 
situations,  wish  he  had  chosen  one,  instead  of 
many  subjects. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Fairchild  took  us  to  the 
fine  "  view  spots,"  all  about  Cap  Rouge,  point- 
ing out,  here  and  there,  places  of  historic 
interest. 

"  See  that  old  ruin  there  ?  Not  much  left, 
but  it  was  at  that  spot  where  the  first  settlement 
of  all  this  country  was  made.  The  Cradle  of 
Western  Civilization." 

"  With  the  '  rockers '  badly  broken,"  put  in 
the  Colonel,  who  had  been  having  such  a  good 
time  that  he  had  had  little  to  say.  I  can  always 
tell  when  the  Colonel  is  enjoying  himself,  it's 
when  he's  not  talking.  The  enjoyment  is  some- 
times contagious,  but  not  usually,  as  he  talks 
well,  but  not  always  apropos.  In  trying  to  be 
pleasant  he  has  been  known  to  make 

Bad  Breaks 

One  day  we  had  called  to  see  a  beautiful  home. 
We  met  here  a  number  of  fine  people,  seated 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  wide  spreading  English 
hawthorn   tree.       We   were   presented,   but   the 

113 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Colonel  did  not  catch  all  the  names.  Of  the 
number  was  a  gentleman  with, 

As  the  Colonel  thought 

his  three  pretty  daughters.  This  old  gentleman 
and  he,  were  sitting  together,  a  little  off  from  thQ 
rest,  when  the  Colonel,  to  be  agreeable,  said,  in 
a  low  tone — "  Pardon  me,  but  tell  me  please, 
who  those  beautiful  ladies  are,  why,  they're  the 
prettiest  I've  seen  in  Quebec!" 

"  Those  three  sitting  together  ?  They  are  from 
Philadelphia  and  you  knciv  it  !"  Poor  Colonel, 
I  felt  sorry  for  him,  he  looked  so  broken  up 
over  the  ill  fate  of  his  well  meant  compliment. 

Toward  evening  we  drove  to  see  the  artist  of 
the  beautiful  Autumns,  Sunsets  and  other  Still 
Lifes,  and  were  wonderfully  repaid. 

The  Colonel  sees  double, 

As  we  drove  away  from  the  artist's  studio,  and 
turned  our  horse  cityward,  I  noticed  that  the 
Colonel  w^as  acting  a  little  oddly,  just  a  little  you 
know,  not  much  ''  off."  The  "  Sunsets,"  or  the 
"Autumns,"  or  possibly  the  "  Still  Lifes  "  were 
too  much  for  him.  The  first  I  noticed  it.  was 
w^hen  he  said  :  "  Rube,  I  thought  we  only  drove 
one  horse  out  this  morning.  Where'd  we  get 
that  other  one  ?" 

114 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  Well,  Colonel,  I'm  surprised  !  It's  a  good 
thing'  it  was  only  '  thirty  years  old,'  If  it  had 
been  forty,  you'd  think  we  were  driving  a  four 
horse  team  instead  of  one." 

The  Horse  was  rrench.. 

"  One " — That's  all,  but  ah  such  a  one. 
When  we  left  the  stable  the  liveryman  had  told 
us,  in  the  morning  :  "  Ge'ntlemen  me  zorry,  but 
zis  is  ze  ony  horse  iz  lef,  all  ze  rest  out — Zis 
is  ze  good  horse  if  he  iz  no  whipped,  if  he  is 
whipped,  he  kicks  ze  buggy  all  to  ze  Icefle  pieces, 
and  leaves  ze  people  spread  over  ze  road. 
Anozzer  zing,  you  must  drive  ze  horse  wiz  ze 
vurd  of  ze  mout.  If  he  stop,  speak  to  ze  horse 
gently,  but  no  whip  ze  horse."  When  we  had 
come  to  within  possibly  two  miles  of  the  city, 
we  stopped  to  catch  one  of  those  beautiful  land- 
scapes over  the  Valley  of  Beauport.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  one  particular  view  point.  It 
was  very  fine,  but  one  may  become  surfeited 
even  with  beauty.  When  we  were  ready  to  drive 
ofif  I  said  :  "  Get  up — Go  on — Come  horsey,  dear 
horsey,  move  up,  it's  nearly  dark."  But  the 
''  dear  horsey  "  is  asleep,  he  does  not  move  a 
muscle,  don't  even  wag  an  ear,  but  stands  com- 
placently. I  was  getting  out  of  patience  trying 
to  drive  by  "  ze  vurd  of  mout,"  and  would  have 
struck   "  ze  horse,"   struck   him   viciously,   but   I 

115 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

did  not  want  to  be  "  spread  over  ze  road." 
People  passed  us  by  and  wondered  why  we  were 
holding  such  an  animated  conversation  with 
only  a  horse,  but  said  nothing,  although  we 
asked  several  of  them  what  was  good  for  an 
animal  that  was  too  partial  to  View  Points,  but 
they  only  smiled  and  said  "  Bon  Soir,"  The 
Colonel  got  out,  and  pushed  at  the  buggy,  while 
I  pushed  on  the  lines,  and  said  "  Go  on  !"  I 
learned  afterwards  that  the  horse  thought  all  the 
time  I  was  saying  "  Whoa  on"  and  that  is  the 
reason  he  so  persistently  "  whoad."  Finally  a 
linguist  came  along,  and  in  one  word  helped  us 
out.  All  he  said  to  that  kicking  French  horse  of 
ours  was 

"  Marche  Don  !" 
and  off  we  were. 

After  that  we  always  had  a  little  talk  with  the 
horse,  before  we  engaged  him,  to  see  that  he 
was  an  £;;^//.y//-speaking  animal. 


MOUNTAIN  HILL 

Isn't  that  a  combination!  It  is  so  called,  the 
Colonel  says,  ironx  the  fact  that  when  you  go  up, 
you  think  it  a  Mountain,  and  when  you  come  down 
it's  only  a  Hill,  so  it's  called  "  Mountain  Hill  " 
and  you  can  take  your  choice  as  it's  all  the  same 
price.  When  I  watched  the  horses  draw  their 
Ii6 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

heavy  loads  up  this  winding  way,  I  thought  of  a 
new  expression  for  strength.  You  know  you've 
often  heard  '*  Strong  as  a  horse  !"  My  expres- 
sion is  even  stronger  than  that.     It  is 

Strong  as  a   Quebec   horse, 

"  There's  one  of  the  best  known  old  hotels  in 
the  city,"  said  the  Colonel  one  day  as  we  were 
going  up  this  hill  past  the  Mountain  Hill  House. 
'Tt's  not  so  high  priced,  but  they  say  it's  all  right. 
Often  people  who  are  to  stay  in  the  city  any 
length  of  time,  go  there  to  learn  French,  as  it  is 
the  best  French-speaking  hotel  in  Quebec. 
That  don't  mean  that  English  is  not  spoken  by 
any  means.  You  can  have  either.  It's  much 
easier  to  learn  French  with  French  surroundings 
and  with  good,  reasonable  service  you  have  the 
whole  combination  here." 

The  Post  Oflace  and  Le  Chien  D'Or 

are  right  at  the  top  of  this  hill.  You  reach  it 
by  going  around  the  street  or  by  35  iron  steps 
right  at  the  post  office. 

As  we  were  going  up  Mountain  Hill  we  came 
to  some  stairs — not  the  ones  by  the  post  office, 
those  others  you  know,  about  half  way  up  the 
hill,  the  ones  where  the  boys  slide  down  the 
bannisters  until  the  rails  are 
119 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
As  "  Slick  "  as  an  Indiana  horse  trader. 

"  What's  this,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Those  are  the  stairs  leading  down  to  Lower 
Town  called  the  ''  Break  Neck  Stairs."  That 
little  street  at  the  bottom  is  Little  Champlain, 
you've  heard  so  much  about.  By  the  way, 
Rube,  while  we're  here,  I  want  to  show  you  that 

Cul  de  Sac 

I've  been  telling  you  about." 

As  I'd  never  seen  one  before  and  wanted  to 
see  everything  in  town,  I  said,  "Yes,  Colonel, 
take  me  to  see  the  Cul  de  Sac,  what's  it  like    " 

"  Wait,  you'll  see,"  and  that — well,  we'll  not 
name  him  here — took  me  down  those  stairs,  and 
on  down  Little  Champlain  ;  round  by  the  old 
Market  House,  to  which  I  was  taken  the  day 
"  48  "  'arrested  me  for  taking  the  steps  ;  up  a 
little  distance  to  where  the  street  stops  short  off, 
and  then  turns  at  right  angle  east,  and  there  he 
stopped,  and  said  :  "  There  it  is.  Rube  !" 
"  Where  "  All  I  could  see  was  a  corner  and 
the  words  "  Cul  de  Sac  "  on  the  wall,  and  all 
that  fellow  did  was  to  ask  me  if  I  could  "  see." 

''  Yes/'  said  I,  "  I  can  see  everything  but  the 
point  of  this  walk  " — and  he  only  laughed  ! 
Rube  is  arrested  for  taking  the  steps 

The  day  I  had  this  picture  of  the  Break  Neck 
Steps  taken,   ever}1:hing  was   in  readiness  when 
120 


liiWiWfHiiirrilii'^iin 


ff  •^WmHiiillTTI 


«wMM«t>WMMMW 


mmmmmmmmmmm 
mmmimmmmm 


L- 


BANNISTER  SLIDING  ON  BREAK  NECK  STEPS 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Policeman  No.  48,  on  inquiry  of  the  photo- 
grapher found  who  was  to  blame  for  the  crowd, 
tapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  :  "  You 
come  with  me  to  the  Station  House  !" 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  1  asked,  scared  like,  as 
I'd  never  been  arrested  before  in  my  life. 

''  It's  not  what  you've  done,  but  what  you're 
going  to  do.     See  that  mob  !     Come  on  !" 

I  went.  When  we  got  to  the  Station,  No.  48 
explained  the  matter  to  the  sergeant,  who 
wanted  to  know  if  Chief  Frank  Pennee  knew 
about  it — "  No,"  said  I,  "  but  if  you'll  call  him  on 
the  'phone,  he  soon  will." 

He  was  called,  and  I  stated  the  case,  when 
that  Chief  of  both  police  and  good  fellows,  said  : 
"  Why,  yes,  Rube,  go  on,  take  the  steps,  take 
the  whole  town  if  you  want  it,  and  welcome  !" 
Now,  wasn't  that  nice  of  him  !  If  you  knew 
him,  though,  you'd  not  be  surprised.  I  wish  we 
could  get  such  a  chief  in  New  York — Ijut  then 
I'm  not  saying  anything  away  from  home. 


RUBE  SEES  QUEBEC  FOOTBALL 

I  went    out    one  afternoon    to    see    our  \"ice- 
Consul,     Frank     Stocking,     play     football.     lie 
called  it  football,  but  you  never  saw  it  played  in 
123 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

such  an  odd  way  as  these  teams  played  it  !  They 
actually  played  it  ivith  their  feet — Now  think  of 
that  ! 

Football  with  the  feet. 

Why  I  was  so  surprised  that  I  had  to  remark 
it  to  Frank,  and  stranger  still,  as  I  stood  there 
talking  with  him,  before  the  game  opened,  I  said, 
"  Frank,  you  boys  don't  seem  to  be  ready  for 
this  game  !" 

''  Why — ves  we  are — see,  they  are  now  lining 
up." 

"  I  know,  but  where's  the  ambulance,  and 
where  are  your  doctors,  with  their  bandages, 
splints,  saws  and  football  paraphernalia  gener- 
ally ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  your  reference  !  'Ambu- 
lance,' '  Doctors.'  No,  Rube,  that's  too  much 
for  me  !" 

"  What  !  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't 
have  these  things  on  the  field  before  the  game 
starts  ?"  He  only  looked  at  me  in  amazement, 
and  I  had  to  tell  him  how  down  at  Yale,  Hack- 
ensack.  Harvard,  Princeton  and  Harlem,  where 
the  game  is  played  in  a  civilised,  cultured  way, 
that  to  begin  a  game  of 

Football  without  the  Ambulance 

would  be  the  very  height  of  heartlessness  to  the 
players. 

124 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

He  walked  away  with  the  blank  look  still  upon 
his  face,  and  just  then  the  game  began. 

"  Basket  Ball  at  a  Female  College  ?" 

Well,  yes,  that  was  about  as  near  as  I  can 
describe  the  way  they  played.  I  mean  as  to  the 
gentle  manner  in  which  they  played.  I  didn't 
see  a  single  "  wedge,"  and  the  whole  team  didn't 
once  pile  on  top  of  one  man  for  the  ostensible 
purpose  of  keeping  him  from  running  to  make  a 
"  goal,"  with  the  result  of  flattening  him  out, 
preparatory  to  going  to  the  hospital  or  cemetery. 
Nor  was  there  any  fighting  or  pulling  of  hair,  or 
any  of  the  exciting  features  of  a  real  game  of 
football  as  played  by  cultured  players  at  our 
seats  of  learning.  Why,  it  was  just  as  though 
the  Gladiators  of  old  Rome  had  come  out  before 
the  vast  assembly  of  the  populace,  and  fought 
with 

Stuffed   clubs  instead  of  with   swords. 

But  then  possibly  the  fact  of  the  calling  in  life 
of  these  players  may,  to  some  extent,  account 
for  the  tameness  of  the  game.  They  were  not 
college  students.  No,  they  were  not  used  to 
hazings,  cane  rushes  and  such  like  manly  games 
of  muscle  hardening  exercise.  No,  they  were 
only  soldiers  from  the  Citadel,  on  one  side,  and 

125 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

citizen  boys  on  the  other — boys  who  had  been  to 
the 

Boer  War 

instead  of  to  College.  To  be  sure  they  played 
good  football,  as  far  as  making  goals,  but  then 
it  was  too  tame.  During  the  whole  hour  and  a 
half  there  wasn't  a  single  arm  or  leg  or  head 
broken  or  an  ear  pulled  off.  In  fact  the  only 
thing  that  made  it  seem  at  all  like  a  game  of 
football  was  the  torrent  of  rain  in  which  it  was 
played. 

I  nearly  forgot  to  say  that  Frank  promised  to 
let  me  play  as  substitute  if  any  of  the  players  got 
killed.  But  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  game  started, 
I  knew  that  I'd  die  of  old  age  before  I'd  get  to 
play  '^  substitute  "  on  a  Quebec  football  team. 


THE   COLONEL  TALKS  TO   RTJBE   ON  COATS 
OF  ARMS. 

"  Colonel,  I  never  was  in  a  place  where  there 
were  so  many  pretty  breast  pins  as  Quebec  !" 
said  I  one  day,  out  on  the  Terrace. 

"  Breast  pins — breast  pins — what  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  Why.  look  there  at  that  lady,  she  has  one 
on,"  said  I  indicating  a  beautiful  woman  attired 
in  most  excellent  taste,  not  far  from  where  we 
sat. 

126 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  you  mean.  That's  a  coat  of 
arms.  Let  me  see — I  have  it.  The  one  the  lady 
is  wearing  is  the  'Quebec  City.'  A  female  figure 
seated  at  the  foot  of  Cape  Diamond,  upon  which 
Quebec  is  built.  The  motto  is  in  Latin,  but  if  I 
remember,  the  English  is  :  '  Strong  by  nature, 
she  grows  by  industry.'  " 

"  Beautiful  pin  !  beautiful  sentiment  !  I  tell 
you.  Colonel,  when  I  get  back  to  New  York  I'm 
going  up  to  Tiffany's  and  get  one,  just  to  keep 
for  dear  old  Quebec." 

''  Tififany — Tiffany,  you  don't  need  to  do'  that, 
why  J.  F.  Dobbin,  right  next  to  the  Quebec 
News  Co.,  has  them  and  many,  many  other 
'Coats'  besides,  yes,  and  souvenirs  of  all  kinds; 
Golden  Dogs,  jewellery,  etc.,  and  what  you'll 
find,  is,  his  prices  are  nothing  Tiffanist  even  if 
his  stock  is  the  best  in  Quebec." 

What  I  got  at  Dobbin's  gave  more  real 
pleasure  to  the  folks  at  home  than  anything  I 
brought  back  from  my  trip. 


HACKMEN    OF    QUEBEC 

Where  tourists  arc  wont  to  go  in  large  num- 
bers, there  the  inevitable  hackman   is  much   in 
evidence.     Quebec  is  no  exception.       There  are 
all  sorts  here,  no  better  or  no  worse,  than  else- 
127 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

where.  I  asked  one  the  fare  to  a  given  point 
one  afternoon — "$1.50"  said  he. 

"Too  much  !"  said  I. 

"  $1.00  then,"  said  he. 

"  Bonjour  !"  said  I.  The  very  next  one  I 
met,  must  have  either  mistaken  me  for  a  native, 
or  a 

Thirty  cent  Party 

as  that  v^as  all  he  asked  to  drive  me  to  the  first 
man's  $1.50  destination. 

There  is  one  thing-  certain,  if  your  time  is 
limited,  don't  walk,  get  a  carriage  or  a  caleche, 
the  driver  knows  just  what  to  see,  how  to  see  it, 
and  if  he  is  a  good  one — and  most  of  them  are 
well  informed  and  courteous — he  will  show  you 
in  one  day,  what  you  could  not  find  in  a  week, 
and  you  will  see  it,  besides,  to  a  far  better  advan- 
tage than  if  you  try  to  "  go  it  alone."  By  all 
means  ride,  else  you  will  always  regret  not  seeing 
Quebec  as  it  must  be  seen  to  get  the  full  worth 
of  your  trip.  The  best  drive  is  out  St.  Foye 
Road  to  Cap  Rouge  and  back  by  the  St.  Louis. 
It  is  worth  the  price  of  the  visit  to  Quebec. 

THE  STREET  CAR  SYSTEM  OF  QUEBEC. 

The  street  car  system  of  Quebec  is  such  that 
very  many  of  the  most  important  places  may  be 
reached  by  trolley — Montmorency  Falls  and  Ste. 

128 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Anne  de  Beaupre,  are  reached  by  the  cars  of 
this  company.  The  day  we  went  out  to  see  the 
Falls  the  Colonel,  who  gets  short  of  breath  going 
up  hill,  complained  greatly  of  that  long,  straight 
up  walk  from  the  car  line  to  the  top,  overlooking 
the  tumble  of  water;  but  he  can't  complain  next 
year,  as  this  enterprising  company  are  preparing 
to  put  up  an  incline  road,  so  that  lazy  folks  and 
the  rest  of  us  can  ride  up — ^my,  that  will  be  worth 
going  all  the  way  out  to  enjoy.  By  the  way, 
among  the  changes  since  our  visit  to  the  Falls, 
Holt,  Renfrew  &  Co.,  will  change  their 

A  Herd  of  Buffalo, 

from  Indian  Lorette  to  the  Haldimand  House 
Park,  at  the  Falls.  Which  house  has  been  put 
in  thorough  repair — not  changed  in  looks,  how- 
ever, from  what  it  was  when  the  Duke  of  Kent 
lived  in  it.  This  will  now  be  a  most  delightful 
place  to  spend  a  few  days  or  longer,  visiting 
points  of  interest  in  and  about  the  Falls. 


CITY  GOVERNMENT  OF  QUEBEC 

"  What  is  the  form  of  government  here  in 
Quebec,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Well,  about  as  our  own  with  the  exception 
that  the  30  City  Councilmen  are  elec^ted  by  the 
129 


TJic  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

voters,  and  then  those  Councilmen,  and  not  the 
voters,  choose  the  Mayor,  while  zve  vote  direct 
for  Mayor  as  well  as  for  /Vldermen.  A  mayor 
may  serve  as  long  as  he  is  chosen,  here,  and  not 
for  one,  two,  three  or  four  years,  as  with  us, 
why, 

S.  N.  Parent 

the  present  Mayor  of  Quebec,  has  been  in  for 
eight  years,  and  is  such  a  success  that  you  hear 
all  the  parties  wishing  that  he  might  get  a  life 
term.  The  city  never  had  such  a  business 
administration  as  since  Parent  has  been  in." 

''  I  tell  you,  Colonel,  that's  refreshing  to  hear, 
coming  as  I  do  from  New  York,  where  the  City 
Fathers  are  not  — ■  well  I'm  not  saying  anything, 
away  from  home  Colonel, — but  it  is  really  re- 
freshing, I  say,  to  find 

A   good   Parent 

up  here  at  the  head  of  the  family,  and  they  are 
wise  in  keeping  him  in,  as  long  as  possible." 

"  Yes,  Rube,  and  not  only  is  he  a  good  Mayor, 
but  an  all  round  good  citizen.  I  never  saw  a 
man  quite  so  popular,  unless  it  is  Laurier,  the 
Premier.  Say,  you  pught  to  hear  that  Laurier 
speak!  Honestly,  Rube,  I  don't  believe  we  have 
his  equal,  unless  it's  Foraker."  The  Colonel 
knew  my  partiality  for  Joe,  and  so  modified  his 
130 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec 

praise.  "  He  hasn't  Foraker's  fire,  he's  more 
Hke  Daniels,  of  Virginia.  His  voice  is  soft  and 
pleasing,  and  he  speaks  equally  well  in  either 
French  or  English.  I  doubt  if  we  have  had  an 
American  from  Lincoln's  time  to  the  present, 
who  has  more  beautifully  portrayed  that  great 
man's  character  than  has  Laurier.  But  then 
coming  back  to  the  Mayor,  you  know  how  you 
were  speaking,  the  other  day,  about  the  many 
new  improvements  you  saw?  well,  they  tell  me 
here  that  most  of  it  has  been  done  under 

Parent's  Administration 

The  man  is  the  most  indomitable  worker  I 
ever  saw,  with  administrative  ability  that  is  mar- 
velous. You  know,  besides  being  Mayor,  he  is 
also  Prime  Minister  of  this  Province." 

"And  Colonel,  I  notice  another  thing,  no 
matter  what  is  done  on  the  New  he  don't  efiface 
the  Old — that  part  which  is  the  attractive  feature 
of  Quebec." 

Mr.  D.  Albee  Patten,  Editor  and  Director  of 
the  Anglo-American  edition  of  the  International 
Gazette,  (London,  New  York  and  Montreal), 
which  is  now  devoting  a  great  deal  of  attention 
to  Canadian  topics,  to  attract  here  tourists  and 
and  capital  seeking  sound  investment,  while  up 
here  last  sununer,  wrote  an  interesting  article  on 
Quebec,    which    was    published    in    September, 

131 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

and  attracted  wide  attention,  and,  referring  to 
the  efficient  administration  of  Mayor  Parent,  and 
the  "  New "  part  of  the  city,  said  of  the  new, 
handsome  City  Hall  : 

"  Think  of  building  a  large,  beautiful  City  Hall 
and  no  one  retiring — independent — from  the 
"job!"  Well,  this  is  a  fact  here,  and  the  new 
City  Hall,  an  architectural  perfection,  modeled 
after  the  famous  Holyrood  Castle,  and  costing 
only  $140,000,  occupies  the  centre  of  an  impos- 
ing square  ;  truly  a  lasting  tribute  to  Mayor 
Parent,  who  personally  inspected  every  contract 
and  compelled  its  fulfillment.  Perhaps  the  sine 
qua  non  of  the  high  regard  in  the  hearts  of  his 
people  which  Mayor  Parent  enjoys  will  be 
suggested  in  mentioning  the  free-will  offering  of 
the  citizens  to  him  of  a  full — official  robe — figure 
oil  painting  of  their  Mayor,  which  now  graces 
the  wall  of  the  Council  chamber,  over  which  His 
Worship,  the  Honorable  S.  N.  Parent,  presides." 

In  New  York  City  it  would  have  cost  at  least 
$1,000,000,  but  I'm  not  saying,  etc.,  etc. 

I  was  glad  to  hear  that  my  favorite  old  city 
was  in  such  good  hands,  as  I  sort  o'  felt  it  would 
be  well  looked  after,  should  I  have  to  leave  town. 

I  met 

Lieut. -Governor  Sir  Louis  Jette. 

while  in  Quebec.     I  don't  know  what  he  has  to 
132 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

do,  in  the  governing  line,  I  never  could  get 
Canadian  politics  and  offices  quite  straight,  but 
I  do  know  that  I've  met  few  men  more  agreeable, 
as  a  gentleman,  than  this  Lieutenant-Governor 
Jette,  and  there  was 

Solicitor-General  Chas.   Titzpatrick 

who  lives  in  Quebec.  Why,  the  minute  he 
grasped  my  hand  I  mentally  said  :  ''  Ouch  ! 
here's  a  man  as  is  a  man."  One  who  throws  his 
soul  right  into  the  greeting.  When  General 
Henry  told  me  how  popular  Canada's  Solicitor- 
General  was,  I  said  :  "  Consul,  Canada  can  well 
congratulate  itself  ! 

"  Speaking    of    popular    men,"    said    General 
Henry,  "  you  should  meet 

Lord  Minto,  Governor-General  of  Canada. 

now  stopping  at  the  Governor-General's  quarters 
at  the  Citadel."  And  the  next  day  the  Consul 
and  I  called  to  see  him.  I  saw  at  once  why  Lord 
Minto  was  a  guest  always  welcome  in  Quebec. 
When  I  left  Canada  and  had  summed  up  the  men 
in  office  I  had  been  fortunate  in  meeting.  I  think 
that  every  one  of  them  could  have  had  my  unani- 
mous vote,  irrespective  of  party.  I  guess  ivorth 
counts  far  more  than  pull  up  there — but  I'm  not 
saying  anything  away  from  home. 

133 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
MR.  ULRIC  BARTHE 

I  should  have  included  in  Quebec's  Lite- 
rati. He  has  written  largely  on  commercial 
subjects,  being  an  expert  on  water  power  and 
manufacturing  generally.  He  was  for  years  the 
editor  of  the  old  Electeur,  the  Liberal  Organ,  also 
editor  of  the  Semaine  Ccnmicrcial,  of  Quebec, 
which  he  resigned  to  take  his  present  position 
of  Secretary  and  Treasurer  of  the  great  Quebec 
Cantilever  Bridge  Company,  now  erecting  a  five 
million  dollar  railroad  bridge  over  the  St.  Law- 
rence, a  short  distance  west  of  Quebec. 

And  just  here  I  may  add  that  one  day  the 
Colonel  and  I  were  going  up  Baude  street,  when 
a  fine  looking  gentleman  somewhere  around  mid- 
dle life,  passed^"  There's  a  man,  Rube,  that  you 
missed  in  your  Quebec  Literati.  He's  got  more 
Ph.D.'s,  B.A.'s  and  A.B.C.'s,  than  most  any  one 
in  town,  and  has  written  enough  for  another  of 
your  catalogues — in  both  prose  and  poetry. 
He's  one  of  the  best  known  educationalists  in 
Canada.     Yes,  Rube,  to  leave  out 

Mr.  J.  M.  Harper 

would  be  to  prove  that  you  are  not  as  well 
informed  as  you  think  you  are."  I  didn't  tell  the 
Colonel  that  he  was  not  .the  first  one  to  speak  of 
this  errata,  which  I  now  gladly  correct. 

134 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"  And  again,  Rube,  there's  the 
Hon.  Felix  Carbray 
over  there  looking  into  that  book-store  window," 
said  the  Colonel,  pointing  out  a  fine-looking  gen- 
tleman, who  might  have  been  mistaken  for  one 
of  our  own  Senators.  ''  You  always  see  him 
around  books,  for  while  not  a  writer  himself,  he 
has  long  been  known  as  one  of  the  great  patrons 
of  the  authors,  as  his  extensive  library  will  evi- 
dence. He  is  possibly  the  best  Celtic  scholar  in 
the  Dominion,  if  not  in  America,  being  one  of 
the  few  who  write  that  now  almost  obsolete  lan- 
guage fluently.  He  has  held  many  important 
positions,  both  by  election  and  by  appointment. 
For  years  he  has  been  Consul  for  Portugal,  and 
is  now  the  Dean  of  the  Quebec  Consulates.  He 
is  a  member  of  the  Harbour  Commission.  He 
was  in  the  Quebec  Assembly  from  1881  to  1886, 
and  was  again  chosen  without  opposition  and  sat 
from  1892  to  1897. 

"  You  see,  Rube,  you  will  find  that  you  have 
missed  many  a  Quebec  notable." 

"Well,  Colonel,"  said  I,  "it's  no  easy  matter  to 
write  of  a  city  with  so  many  worthy  of  note,  and 
not  of  necessity  miss  very  many  of  them,  but 
I'm  glad  you  called  my  attention  to  one  so 
worthy  of  mention," 

135 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Tablets, 

We  were  going  up  toward  the  Citadel  one  day 
when  the  Colonel  called  my  attention  to  a  tablet 
on  one  of  those  old  stone  buildings,  that  you 
have  to  pass  in  that  lane  like  driveway.  We 
stopped  to  read: 

"  Placed  to  their  memory  by  several  American 
Children.  Within  this  building  and  under  this 
tablet,  repose  the  remains  of  13  soldiers  of 
General  Montgomery's  Army,  who  were  killed 
the  31st  of  December,  1775." 

"  Colonel,  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  notion  for 
some  other  '  Several  American  Children,'  to 
follow  the  example  of  the  ones  who  put  up  this 
tablet,  to  remove  that  old  board  sign  on  the  side 
of  the  hill  and  put  a  respectable  one  at  the  real 
spot  of  Montgomery's  fall?  All  nations  want  to 
be  accurate  and  should  especially  have  marks  to 
designate  the  spot  where  even  an  enemy  fell,  if 
for  no  other  reason  than  to  prove  that  he  did 
fall."       The  Colonel  quite  agreed  with  me. 

Briefs 
THE  COMING  OF  THE  DUKE  AND  DUCHESS. 

During  my  visit  in  Quebec  the  event  para- 
mount was  the  coming  of  their  Royal 
Highnesses  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Corn- 
wall    and     York     on     September     17.       Streets 

136 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

were  being  paved,  the  old  walls  of  the 
city  repaired,  houses  painted,  lawns  put  in  the 
smoothness  of  velvet,  Committees  preparing  a 
programme  to  fill  in  every  hour  of  the  two  gala 
days,  and  all  with  the  prospect  of  the  event 
proving  the  most  remarkable  since  the  visit  of 
the  Duke's  father,  King  Edward,  then  Prince  of 
Wales,  forty-one  years  ago. 

I  am  indebted  for  many  business  courtesies  to 
the  firm  of  Auger  &  Son,  well  known  through- 
out the  States.  Through  them  I  learned  much 
of  the  business  ways  of  Quebec. 

While  trade  in  that  city  may  not  be  carried 
through  with  the  rush  so  necessary  in  some  of 
our  great  n&arts,  yet  it  is  fairly  prompt  and 
thorough,  and  now  that  it  is  becoming  one  of 
the  great  grain  centres,  it  will  soon  get  on  that 
greater  promptness. 

Quebec  has  not  yet  waked  up, 

to  her  possibilities.  Her  location,  naturally 
good,  has  not  been  taken  advantage  of,  but  once 
she  begins  to  find  what  she  really  is,  the  strides 
of  advancement  will  be  gigantic. 

Ilcr  people  send  their  money  away  for  ques- 
tionable silver  mines,  while  an  undeveloped 

Gold  Mine 

lies    within    her   borders.       Already   this   richer 
137 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

mine  is  beginning  to  be  worked,  a  little  on  the 
surface  ;  new  shafts  are  being  sunk  and  "  pay 
dirt"  found.  When  the  great  bridge  across  the 
St.  Lawrence  is  completed,  there  will  be  no  hold- 
ing back  of  the  rapid  developing  of  Quebec. 
Money  will  pour  in  for  investments,  this  old 
town  will  put  on  the  airs  of  a  western  city,  and 
she  will  take  her  place  among  her  sisters,  that  her 
position  so  fitly  entitles  her  to  take. 

Timber  Lands 

Dr.  Wm.  Delaney,  of  the  Crown  Lands  De- 
partment, gave  me  much  valuable  information 
in  the  matter  of  timber  lands  of  the  Province  of 
Quebec.  He  told  me  how  many  millions  of 
acres  the  government  still  held,  but  at  the  rate  it 
is  being  taken  up  at  the  annual  sales  there  will 
soon  be  little  left.  Timber  lands  are  not  sold  by 
the  acre,  but  by  the  mile.  It  is  not  sold,  either, 
sort  o'  leased.  The  bidder  selects  a  tract  that 
he  wants,  and  bids  for  it  at  the  annual  auction 
sale.  This  licence  holds  good  for  one  year,  and 
each  year  he  must  pay  $3.00  per  mile  for 
renewal.  Besides  this  he  pays  65  cents  per  M. 
feet  of  lumber  sawed,  65  cents  per  cord  of  pulp 
wood  cut,  and  so  much  per  telegraph  pole  or 
railroad  tie  taken  from  the  "  limit."  The  foun- 
138 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

dations  of  vast  fortunes  are  being  laid  by  buying 
these  limits  to  hold. 

I  saw  a  number  of  these  Hmits  of  well  selected 
timber — spruce  and  cedar — that  can  be  bought 
at  a  price  that  will  prove  a  five-fold  increase  inside 
as  many  years. 

He  wasn't  a  Colonel 

Just  as  the  book  reached  this  stage,  I  chanced 
upon  a  strange  meeting.  It  was  that  of  M.  T, 
Shine.  When  he  was  introduced  to  me  as  from 
Kentucky,  I  said:  "Very  glad  to  meet  you, 
Colonel  !" 

"  I'm  no  Colonel,"  said  he.  ''  What,  and  from 
Kentucky  ?"  I  could  not  realize  for  some 
minutes,  the  phenomenon.  No,  this  man  is  only 
a  Judge.  He  said  he  was  lonesome  down  home, 
so  came  to  Quebec.  I  proved  a  point  raised  by 
my  "  Colonel,"  who  had  contended  that  Ken- 
tucky had  no  men  of  prominence  who  did  not 
have  some  military  title. 

Get  Guide  Books. 

To  see  Quebec  properly  the  first  thing  you 
should  do,  after  registering,  is  to  get  guide 
books,  and  read  up  the  history  of  the  places  you 
are  to  visit.  There  are  two  excellent  ones  here 
— get  both,  as  one  may  give  a  point  not  men- 

139 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

tioned  by  the  other,  and  the  cost  is  so  trifling 
that  you  cannot  afford  to  lose  a  single  point  of 
interest. 

They  have  a  care  for  each  other, 

There  is  nothing  that  will  so  clearly  indicate 
the  heart  character  of  a  people,  as  when  death 
calls  away  one  of  their  number.  I  could  not  but 
notice  this  heart  feeling  shown  at  a  funeral  held 
a  few  days  before  I  left  Quebec.  Although 
E.  C.  Whiting  was  not  rich,  only  an  accountant, 
yet  his  funeral  was  so  largely  attended,  that  the 
procession  of  men  walking  extended  for  many 
blocks — and  in  the  procession  were  all  classes, 
rich  and  poor.  It  was  pleasing  to  notice  that  the 
hurry  and  struggle  of  life  had  not  blotted  out 
here,  that  beautiful  beatitude  "  Love  Thy  Neigh- 
bor." 

Weddings, 

are  also  a  feature — especially  so  in  the  country, 
among  the  well-to-do  farmers.  After  the 
ceremony,  the  bridal  tour  is  taken  by  the  bride 
and  groom,  with  often  a  procession  of  carriages 
accompanying  them.  They  put  in  the  day  visit- 
ing friends  all  about  the  country  for  miles,  and 
then  at  night  begin  the  festivities,  that  sometimes 
last  for  two  or  three  days.  Occasionally  the 
good  parish  father  objects  to  the  dancing,  then 
140 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

there  is  trouble.  While  I  was  up  there  a  young 
couple  were  married.  All  preparations  were 
ready  for  a  great  ball,  to  celebrate  the  occasion. 
The  priest  objected,  and  when  he  heard  that  his 
objections  were  overruled,  and  that  the  music 
had  started  up,  he  at  once  told  the  sexton  and 

"  The  Sexton  tolled  the  bell/' 

It  did  sound  gruesome,  the  "  fiddles  "  going  to 
the  accompaniment  of  the  doleful  church  bell 
hard  by, — but  the  ball  won  out,  as  the  old 
sexton  couldn't  compete  with  the  happy  wedding 
dancers. 

Taxes 

Quebec  don't  tax  property  direct,  but  on  the 
rental  value.  Two  houses  of  the  same  intrinsic 
worth,  equally  well  located,  one  may  pay  much 
more  to  the  treasurer  than  the  other  by  reason  of  a 
higher  rent  receipt.  The  Colonel  says  this  is 
bad  on  the  assessor  as  it  gives  him  little  chance 
of  favoritism — "  for  revenue  only." 

There  are  no  meat  markets,  as  we  know  them, 
in  Quebec.  Fresh  meats  of  all  kinds  must  be 
purchased  in  one  of  the  six  markets,  and  never 
from  "  the  little  store  around  the  corner "  or 
from  a  wagon. 

You  never  saw  such  a  city  as  Quebec.  It 
141 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

don't  have  fires  like  we  do.     Why,  I  didn't  see 
Fire  Engine 

during  my  whole  stay.  I  asked  the  Colonel  the 
cause  of  all  this  ''  coolness  "  and  he  said — (Don't 
know  how  true  it  is,  as  the  Colonel  told  me  so 
many  odd  things)  that  :  ''  Quebec  saves  up  her 
fires  and  has  them  all  at  once;  why,  she  has  been 
known  to  burn  i,6oo  houses  at  a  single  "  burning 
bee,'  and  that  was  in  1845,  before  they  had  very 
many  to  spare,  either.       Then  again.  Rube,  you 

have  noticed  that  Quebec  has  very  few  ." 

The  Colonel,  when  he  told  me  this,  had  that 
blank  filled  up  with  a  certain  nation  or  people 
once  very  prominent  in  the  early  school  histories, 
but  I  won't  mention  the  nation  for  it  might  think 
me  disrespectful  of  their  business  methods — at 
any  rate  Quebec  has  scarcely  any  fires. 

(Second  Edition, — Carefully  as  I  put  this,  I 
have  already  been  called  to  account  for  it  from 
a  far  away  western  city.  My  correspondent  says: 
"  You  have  no  right  to  speak  so  ill  of  my  race  !" 
He  said  a  number  of  other  things,  and  said  them 
in  a  way  that  wouldn't  be  proper  to  give  here. 
I  tell  you  they  were  zvarm  !  This  may  be  taken 
for  a  joke,  but  odd  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  true.) 


142 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
HOW  TO  GET  FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  QUEBEC. 

I  have  been  asked  already  many  times,  for  the 
best  route  to  take  from  New  York  to  Quebec. 
If  all  questions  were  as  easily  answered  as  this 
I  would  gladly  quit  worrying.  Before  my  visit 
to  that  city  I  looked  upon  it  as  an  out  of  the 
way  place — coming  over  certain  routes  it  is,  but 
when  I  answer  the  oft'  asked  question,  as  to 
which  is  the  best  way,  you  will  at  once  see  for 
yourself,  when  I  tell  you  that  you  have  but  to 
go  to  the  New  York,  New  Haven  and  Hartford 
Station  at  42  Street  in  New  York  city,  take  2 
train  at  4  o'clock  P.M.,  and  arrive  in  Quebec  the 
following  morning.  It  is  absolutely  not  as  much 
trouble,  coming  by  this  route,  as  it  would  be  to 
go  from  Brooklyn  to  Mount  Vernon,  on  the 
upper  edge  of  New  York  city.  I  might  have 
even  said,  easier  than  going  from  one  end  of 
Greater  New  York  to  the  other.  Then  again, 
when  is  added  to  the  easy  access,  the  beautiful 
scenery  of  the  journey,  up  through  Connecticut 
into  Massachussetts 

OVER  THE  BOSTON  AND  MAINE,  AND 
QUEBEC  CENTRAL  RY. 

via  Springfield  and  Sherbrooke,  with  its  comfort- 
able cars  and  unsurpassed  service,  without 
change  of  cars,  you  will  see  both  the  ease  of 
access  and  the  comfort  of  this  route.     I  would 

143 


TJic  Yankee  ill  Quebec. 

tell  you  besides,  that  if  you  want  to  go  to  some 
of  the  finest  summer  resorts  in  America,  that  you 
can  reach  them  by  this  same 

Quebec  Central  and  its  Connections 

It  traverses  a  country  of  beautiful  lakes  and 
rivers  in  the  most  pleasant  way,  to  the  most 
pleasant  places.  But  then  it  is  not  my  purpose 
to  tell  you  about  these  places. 

What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  go  to  Quebec 

I  speak  thus,  as  I  would  have  thanked  any  one 
for  the  advice  I  give. 

I  found  Quebec  only  by  accident,  and  the 
absolute  happiness  of  my  visit  there  makes  me 
feel  that  my  mission  in  life  is  to  send  every  one 
I  can  to  that  charming  old  city.  If  you  can 
discern  truth  in  written  words,  you  will  know 
that  I  am  writing  this  from  the  heart,  and  with 
not  so  much  as  one  penny's  gain  by  your  going. 
I  know  that  when  you  have  seen  it,  as  I  saw  it, 
you  will  say  as  I  say,  that  for  real  joy  there  is 

No  other  city  in  the  Western  Hemisphere 

that  can  even  in  a  small  measure  compare  with 
it.  There  are  many — in  fact,  few  less — more 
architecturally  beautiful,  but  no  other  one  has 
the  combination  here  found.  Views  unsurpass- 
ed, rivers,  islands,  falls,  valleys  and  mountains, 
144 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

all  within  a  near  radius,  while  the  city  itself  is 
one  vast  volume  of  romantic  history,  and  its 
people  are  most  delightful  to  know. 


VALADICTORY. 

When  I  thought  to  write  my  impressions  of 
Quebec,  and  to  lend  you  my  eyes  through  which 
to  see  the  old  place,  I  wondered  could  I  write  a 
one  hundred  page  pamphlet,  and  told  the  printer 
that  it  would  not  reach  beyond  that  limit.  I 
have  lightly  touched  a  point  of  interest  here  and 
there;  told  you  of  men  worthy  of  volumes;  told 
of  them  oft  in  a  single  sentence  ;  have  let  you 
look  at  the  bare  edge  of  many  a  sea  over  which 
you  might  sail  long  and  pleasantly  ;  have  taken 
you  to  the  mouth  of  a  mine  and  told  you  that 
here  lies  vast  stores  of  wealth  undug,  and  yet 
with  these  light  touches,  or  in  many,  very  many 
cases  unnoted  points  worthy  of  note,  and  yet,  I 
say,  my  little  book  is  more  than  double  the  size 
I  promised  to  give. 

When  first  I  thought  to  write,  it  was,  "  What 
can  I  put  in  ?"  At  the  close  it  is  "  what  can  I 
leave  out  ?" 

All  books  have  an  end,  or  have  had,  until  now. 
This  one  has  none.  I  have  tried  hard,  very  hard 
to  reach  an  end,  a  place  to  stop,  but  the  effort 

145 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

is  a  useless  one,  and  so,  I'll  simply  quit  writing, 
as  the  oarsman  stops  rowing.  He  stops  rowing, 
but  the  boat  drifts  and  drifts,  and  though  he  is 
lost  to  view  he  still  moves  on. 

Dear  Old  Quebec,  Good-by.  I  came  to  your 
gates  a  stranger.  I  came  for  ties  of  wood,  and 
carry  back  ties  more  enduring  than  stone — ties 
of  the  heart.  For  every  courtesy  I  thank  you, 
and  assure  you  that  as  long  as  memory  is  vouch- 
safed me,  so  long  will  you  hold  a  loving  place  in 
my  inmost  aflfection.  Would  that  I  might  speak 
all  I  feel,  but  language  is  meagre  and  fails  my 
wish.  If  you  could  read  my  heart,  you  would 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  say — Quebec — Good-by. 


>^ 


146 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Part  Second. 


Death  of  President  McKinley  and 
the  heartfelt  sympathy  of  the  Cana= 
dians. 


The  visit  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Cornwall  and  York— now  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Wales. 


Rube  visits  the  Lakes  and  hunts 
moose  and  caribou,  with  no  ill  effects 
to  the  moose  and  caribou  whatever. 


Rube  does  some  photographing  at 
Roberval,  that  is  he  thought  he  was 
photographing. 


Trip  down  the  Saguenay. 

147 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Rube  plays  as  "Substitute"  in  a 
game  of  "Lacrosse",  with  serious 
results  to  the  "  Substitute  ". 


Tells  of  Musical  Quebec.    He  finds 
a  genius. 


The  Comodore  tells  Rube  the  "Aig 
Flip  "  story. 


Talks  about  Home  Folks. 


Ladies  of  Quebec. 


Rube  visits  Montreal  and  gets  lost 
in  its  oddly  named  streets. 


Hears    Miss    Canada    and    Uncle 
Sam's  talk  on  "duty". 


Souvenir  to  H.  M.  Ships. 

148 


DUKE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  CORNWALL  AND  YORK 

From  the  famous  photograph  taken  at  Lord  Strathcona's  by  the  leartiiia 
phutographers  of  Canada 

WM.  NOTMAN  &  SON,  MONTREAL 


Rube  Still  in  Quebec. 


When  I  had  finished  singing  ''  Good-by  Sweet 
Heart,  Good-by,"  and  thought  :  "It  may  "be  for 
years  and  it  may  be  forever,"  and  a  few  others 
in  the  minor  key,  I  found  that  I  didn't  have  to 
go  so  soon  after  all,  and  "  here  I  be  "  yet  in 
Quebec. 

The  rapidity  with  which  the  first  edition  was 
written,  printed,  published  and  sold,  was  kindly 
termed  a  "  Literary  feat."  It  was  begun  at 
I  p.m.  Aug.  5th  ;  the  manuscript  given  to  the 
printers  the  morning  of  Aug.  13th  ;  it  left  the 
binders  on  the  3rd  of  September,  and  the  whole 
edition  sold  by  11.45  ^•"^-  September  5th.  One 
hour  and  a  quarter  to  spare  of  the  month. 

The  newspapers  of  Quebec  have  without 
exception  treated  my  little  volume  with  the 
utmost  kindness,  for  which  I  am  most  heartily 
appreciative. 

149 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

The  only  criticism  made  was  that  it  was  light 
of  texture,  which  is  most  flattering,  as  it  proves 
that  I  succeeded  in  doing  what  I  aimed  to  do. 

I  once  wrote  on  "  The  center  of  gravity  of  the 
population  of  the  United  States,'  and  the  critics 
were  loud  in  their  praise  of  the  depth  of  the 
work,  but  it  didn't  live  a  week,  poor  thing.  I 
gave  it  a  respectable  burial  along  with  the  rest 
of  my  "  deep  works  "  and  quit  that  style,  as  I 
found  that  a  deep  writer  too  soon  accumulates  a 
large  library  of  his  own  writings,  and  with  a  few 
happy  exceptions,  they  receive  more  praise  than 
dollars. 

The  world  is  so  full  of  the  sombre  that,  regard- 
less of  either  praise  or  dollars,  some  of  us  must 
needs  write  in  lighter  vein  to  even  things  up. 

I  want  many  to  know  of  dear  old  Quebec,  and 
somehow,  to  reach  the  "  many  "  one  dare  not  go 
too  deep,  lest  the  readers  grow  tired  before  they 
cross  the  St.  Lawrence. 

So  much  of  interest  and  worthy  of  note  has 
occurred  in  the  comparatively  few  days  since  my 
little  volume  was  so  kindly  received,  that  to  write 
of  them  all  would  require  a  book  with  more 
pretentions  than  could  be  designated  by  "  little." 

It  had  scarce  left  the  press  when  word  flashed 
around  the  world  that 

Our  Beloved  President,  Wm.   McKinley. 

had  been  wounded  to  death.     I  shall  never  forget 

^5° 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  kindly  sympathy  of  the  Canadians  at  that 
time.  Could  you  of  my  countrymen  who  look 
upon  Canada  as  a  foreign  land,  have  seen  as  I 
saw  the  tear  dimmed  eyes  of  these  grand  people, 
when  death  closed  the  career  of  that  good  man, 
you  would  never  again  see  the  line — even  an 
imaginary  one — that  separates  us.  I  felt  as 
never  before  that  we  are  brothers  in  everything 
that  goes  to  bind  hearts  together  in  loving  affec- 
tion. The  days  between  the  wounding  and  the 
hour  when  he  passed  away  with  ''  Thy  will  be 
done  "  upon  his  lips,  were  earnest  days.  Prayers 
were  offered  up  in  all  churches  that  his  life  might 
be  spared — and  when  the  end  came  flags  were 
put  at  half  mast,  and  sorrow  seemed  as  genuine 
as  though  he  had  been  their  own  ruler.  Had 
the  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  York  not  already  won 
my  great  admiration  for  his  manly  bearing,  he 
would  have  won  it  the  day  of  his  reception  at  the 
Parliament  Building,  when,  in  reply  to  Mayor 
Parent's  beautiful  address  of  welcome,  he  closed 
with  this  kind  tribute.  "  I  take  this,  the  first 
opportunity,  to  express  in  common  with  the 
whole  civilized  world,  my  intense  horror  at  the 
detestable  crime  which  has  plunged  into  mourn- 
ing the  great  friendly  nation  to  the  south  of  us, 
and  deprived  them  of  their  great  First 
Magistrate.  The  Duchess  and  I  heartily  join 
with    you    in    sympathy    towards    a    people    with 

151 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

whom  we  are  connected  by  ties  of  kinship  and 
esteem,  and  our  hearts  go  out  to  the  wife  and 
family  of  the  late  distinguished  and  beloved 
President." 

The  words  were  kind  but  the  beautiful  manner 
and  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken  were  even 
more  so. 

Apropos  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess, 

They  have  come  and  gone,  but  the  impression 
they  made,  not  only  upon  their  own  subjects, 
but  upon  all  with  whom  they  came  in  contact, 
is  one  that  will  ever  remain.  The  "  airs  "  we 
are  prone  to  accord  to  royalty  was  entirely  lack- 
ing in  these  two  charming  people.  They  were 
kind  even  to  simplicity,  and  left  in  every  heart  a 
love  that  cannot  but  bear  fruit  in  all  the  years 
to  come.  Whether  they  remain  Duke  and 
Duchess  or  become  King  and  Queen  of  England, 
they  have  made  loving  friends  of  all  Canada. 
As  a  souvenir  of  their  visit  I  give  here  the 

OFFICIAL  PROGRAM. 

of  the  festivities  held  in  Quebec,  in  honor  of 
Their  Royal  Highnesses  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Cornwall  and  York.  Monday,  Sept.  i6th. 
12  o'clock. — Arrival  at  the  King's  wharf  of  Their 
Royal  Highnesses  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Cornwall  and  York,  received  in  Quebec 

152 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

by  His  Excellency,  The  Governor  General, 
Lord  Minto,  and  the  R.  H.  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier. 

The  Royal  visitors  will  immediately  proceed  to 
the  Parliament  Buildings,  passing  through 
Champlain  street,  Champlain  market,  St. 
Peter,  Mountain  Hill,.  Du  Fort,  St.  Louis, 
Grande  Allee  and  Dufiferin  Avenue,  w^here  a 
Choir,  composed  of  three  thousand  children, 
will  sing  '*  God  Save  the  King,"  accom- 
panied by  Military  Bands,  as  the  Royal 
Visitors  reach  the  Parliament  Buildings. 

12.30. — Address  of  Welcome,  in  the  name  of  the 
Mayor  anad  citizens  of  Quebec,  presented  in 
the  room  of  the  Legislative  Council  to  Their 
Royal  Highnesses,  answered  by  H.R.H.  the 
Duke  of  Cornwall. 

1.30. — Departure  from  the  Parliament  Buildings, 
singing  by  the  children's  choir  of  the 
anthem  "  Chant  National,"  with  Bands' 
accompaniment,  on  the  passage  of  Their 
Royal  Highnesses  on  their  way  to  the 
Citadel. 

2  o'clock. — Lunch  at  the  citadel  with  His 
Excellency  the  Governor  General. 

3.30. — Visit  of  Their  Royal  Highnesses  to  the 
Laval  University.  Presentation  of  address 
by   the    Clergy.        University    Degrees   con- 

153 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

ferred  on  H.  R.  H.  The  Duke  of  Cornwall 
and  York. 

7.30. — State  dinner  at  the  citadel. 

9.30. — From  the  King's  bastion,  the  Duke  and 
the  Duchess,  accompanied  by  H.  E.  Lord 
Minto,  the  R.  H.  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  the 
Honorable  S.  N.  Parent,  and  the  guests 
invited  at  the  dinner,  will  listen  to  the  open 
air  popular  concert  given  on  the  Dufferin 
Terrace  by  one  thousand  singers  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty  instrumentalists,  under  the 
joint  direction  of  Bandmaster  J.  Vezina  and 
Choir-master  J.  A.  Paquet. 

10  to  12  p.m.. — Illumination  of  the  City,  of  Beau- 

port,  L'Ange-Gardien,  Island  of  Orleans 
and  Levis,  and  grand  pyrotechnic  display  on 
the  Dufiferin  Terrace,  and  on  board  the 
Man-of-war  on  the  river. 

SEPTEMBER  17th. 

11  o'clock. — Military   Review   on   the    Plains   of 

Abraham. 
1.30. — Lunch  at  Spencerwood,  after  which  : 
"  Garden  Party."  Thence  Their  Royal 
Highnesses  will  proceed  to  the  Frigate  OpJiir 
where  an  official  dinner  will  be  given.  Dur- 
ing the  evening  will  take  place  :  A  naval 
parade,  a  concert  by  one  thousand  singers 
and  instrumentalists  (on  board  of  the  steam- 

154 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

ers),  illumination  of  all  the  Men-of-war  and 
Steamers  in  the  port,  and  fireworks  from 
every  one  of  them. 

SEPTEMBER  i8th. 

Departure    of   Their    Royal    Highnesses    by    the 
C.  P.  R.,    on     their     special    train,    for    the 
inland  cities  of  the  Dominion. 
The   festive   features   of  the  programme   were 
not  carried  out.       This  was    out    of    respect    to 
President   McKinley's   death.        Beautiful    senti- 
ment to  pay   to    the    memory    of    the   head   of 
another  nation  ! 

FIREWORKS  AS   SEEN   FROM  THE   TERRACE, 

I  have  seen  vast  pyrotechnics,  but  never  before 
have  I  seen  a  city  so  well  adapted  to  such 
display  as  Quebec.  How  true:  "  Like  a  city  set 
upon  a  hill,  its  light  cannot  be  hid  !"  I  never 
attempt  a  description  if  I  can  find  one  who  can 
do  it  for  me  better.  I  am  fortunate  again.  This 
time  in  finding  in  my  old  friend  Silas  Gregory,  a 
man  who,  although  78  years  old,  still  wields  a 
facile  pen.  Mr.  Gregory  was  in  Quebec  in  1855 
when  there  was  another  demonstration  of  which 
he  wrote.  Of  this  present  occasion  he  writes, 
comparing  it  with  the  other. 

"  Again  the  loyal  citizens  of  Quebec  displayed 
their   loyalty,   hospitality   and   exquisite   taste   in 

155 


TJic  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

decorating-  the  Ancient  Capital  for  royal  guests 
— the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Cornwall  and  York. 
But  what  a  wonderful  change  had  taken  place 
within  46  years.  The  gas  light  illuminations  of 
1855 ;  the  war  ships  of  wood,  with  sails  and  com- 
paratively light  armament,  the  turpentine  hand 
grenades  for  firework  display,  etc.,  had  been 
supplanted  by  electric  lights  for  illuminations; 
monster  engines  of  destruction  floated  as  lightly 
upon  the  water  as  the  old  wooden  vessels,  whose 
place  they  had  taken,  and  for  pyrotechnic  display 
the  old  grenade  was  dimmed  by  a  thousand 
candle  power  modern  light  that  fairly  changed 
night  into  day.  The  Atlantic  cable  was  then  a 
dream  in  the  mind  of  a  Field  while  now  the 
messages  flash  back  and  forth  as  a  shuttle  in  the 
loom  of  time.  These  and  a  thousand  other 
vast  changes  made  it  possible  for  a  grander 
reception  for  the  future  King  and  Queen  of 
Great  Britain. 

From  the  King's  Bastion  the  Royal  party  wit- 
nessed an  unparalleled  scene.  At  a  given  signal 
huge  bonfires  blazed  forth  at  \;^rious  points  on 
the  Levis  heights,  and  on  those  of  the  Isle  of 
Orleans  and  Montmorency.  The  great  ships  of 
war  lying  in  the  harbor  were  brilliantly  lighted 
with  innumerable  electric  lights,  the  beautiful 
and  unique  Chateau  Frontenac,  was  a  blaze  of 
brilliancy   from    '  Turret    to    foundation    stone,' 

i.s6 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

while  public  buildings,  convents,  churches  and 
many  private  dwelling's  shone  out  upon  the 
night,  making  the  old  city  a  veritable  bit  of  fairy 
land  of  splendor,  witnessed  by  over  one  hundred 
thousand  pleased  spectators — crowding  Dufiferin 
Terrace,  the  roofs  of  houses  and  every  available 
spot  from  which  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  grand 
display — a  scene  ever  to  be  remembered  and  re- 
corded in  the  pages  of  the  history  of  Canada." 

What  to  me  was  even  more  pleasing  than  the 
feast  of  the  eye,  was  the 

Chorus  of  a  thousand  singers, 
« 

who,  under  the  leadership  of  Joseph  Vezina  and 
J.  A.  Paquet,  sang  the  National  Airs  of  England 
and  her  provinces.  This  vast  choir— many  of 
the  singers  were  well-trained  children— was 
seated  on  a  raised  platform  on  the  Terrace,  and 
assisted  by  two  hundred  and  fifty  musicians, 
filled  the  night  with  a  volume  of  sweet  music  I 
had  seldom  heard  before,  and  had  never  heard, 
amid  such  surroundings  !  Oh,  what  a  picture 
— weird — nuisical  picture  !  A  thou-and  well- 
trained  voices  ringing  out  far  above  the  river,  up 
and  down  and  across  which  llitted  hither  and 
thither,  ships  lighted  from  deck  to  topmast,  with 
ever  and  anon  and  in  all  directions,  fire  Hying 
from  ship  and  shore  and  Terrace.     The  blending 

157 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

of  sight  and  sound  was  most  entrancing'.  Ah, 
the  joy  of  that  September  night, — the  scene  will 
ever  remain  framed  in  memory. 

The  review  of  the  troops  of  Canada,  and  the 
marines  of  His  Majesty's  ships  in  the  harbor,  by 
the  Duke  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  was  another 
enjoyable  event.  In  a  review  where  the  man- 
oeuvering  is  all  good,  it  is  hard  to  speak  of  what 
is  best;  but  all  agreed  that  the  marching  of  the 
marines  was  something  beyond  good,  it  was  mar- 
vellous. The  whole  line  moved  as  one  man,  and 
that  one  man  trained  to  the  very  highest  of 
modern  tactics.     It  was  beautiful  and  inspiring. 


The  Duke  confers  honors 

After  the  Review  of  the  troops  by  His  Royal 
Highness  the  Duke,  honors  were  conferred  and 
medals  given.  The  first  was  conferred  upon 
Colonel  R.  E.  W.  Turner,  son  of  Hon  Richard 
Turner,  M.L.C.  It  was  the  Victoria  Cross  for 
Distinguished  Service,  in  taking,  in  the  face  of 
great  danger,  during  battle  a  number  of  guns,  in 
the  South  African  war.  The  Colonel  was  also 
presented  a  beautiful  sword,  given  by  the  citi- 
zens  of   Quebec.       After  this  presentation,   the 

158 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Duke  distributed  medals  of  honor  to  a  number  of 
the  soldiers  who  had  fought  in  this  war. 

Following  are  those  given  titles  by  His  Royal 
Highness.  The  recipients  are  from  the  various 
Provinces  of  Canada  •:  Sir  Louis  A.  Jette, 
K.C.M.G.;  Sir  John  Boyd,  K.C.M.G.;  Sir  T.  G. 
Shaughnessy,  K.B.;  Principal  Peterson,  C.M.G. ; 
Principal  Grant,  C.M.G. ;  Rev.  Mr.  Mathieu, 
Rector  of  Laval  University,  C.M.G.  ;  Mayor 
Howland,  Toronto,  C.M.G.  ;  Major  Maude, 
C.M.G.;  Mr.  Joseph  Pope,  C.M.G. 

Scan  this  list  well,  and  see  the  men  who  were 
honored.  It  shows  the  trend  of  the  times.  Mind 
and  not  warlike  prowess  has  earned  for  them 
their  titles.  One  hundred  years  ago,  aye,  less, 
it  might  have  been  writ  of  one  mentally  worthy 
of  title,  that  ; 

He  hath  no  claim  to  honors! 

If  he,  by  proxy,  had  but  slain 

Ten  thousand  struggling  fellows, 

Or  by  some  deed  of  tongue, 

Sent  hurtling  down  to  death 

Vast  herds  of  men. 

His  back,  long  since,  had  felt. 

The  weight  of  sword,  so  lightly  touched 

That  he  must  needs  be  told  : 
"  Rise,  Sir  Knight,  from  this  time  forth 

Thou  art  of  nobler,  and  of  better  mold." 


159 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


I  told  you  how  the  Colonel  begged  of  me  to 
take  that  trip  to 

LAKE  ST.  JOHN,  ROBERVAL  AND 
SAGUENAY. 

I  now  regard  him  my  true  friend.  A  more 
beautiful  trip  could  not  be  found  in  any  land, 
than  this,  and,  like  the  Colonel,  I  say  to  you,  take 
it,  and  if  you're  not  as  pleased  as  I,  why  draw 
on  me  for  the  cost  of  it.  You  must  take  it, 
though,  in  my  same  "  happy  go  lucky  "  way  of 
seeing  things,  and  not  sit  round  and  "  knit " 
while  everybody  else  is  having  a  good  time,  then 
write  me  that  you  had  no  fun. 

Yes,  I  took  his  advice,  which  means  that  I 
took  the  trip. 

I  left  Quebec  one  afternoon  over  the  Quebec 
and  Lake  St.  John  Railroad,  passed  through 
Charlesb'ourg,  where,  you  remember,  the 
Colonel  lost  me  the  afternoon  he  took  me  to  see 
Chateau  Bigot,  on  through  "  Indian  Lorette" 
with  its  "  pretty  Lidian  Princesses,"  called  out  to 
"  Poo  Bah"  Ross  at  the  station  as  I  passed,  and 
on  to  St.  Gabriel  station,  where,  if  you  have  the 
1 60 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

time  you  must  stop  off  and  spend  a  day  wander- 
ing up  and  down 

The  Jacques  Cartier  River 

named  for  the  discoverer  of  Canada.  If  you  are 
a  salmon  fisher  you  may  spend  a  week  of  most 
dehghtful  pleasure.  If  you  are  a  lover  of  the 
beautiful  in  nature  here  you  can  feast  your  eyes 
on  most  charming  scenery,  as  the  waters  of  the 
river  run  through  and  over  and  around  great 
rocks,  as  they  go  seething  and  foaming  on  to  the 
lake  below  the  bridge  that  crosses  at  a  height 
of  60  feet.  F'ar  up  this  river  is  a  wild  wooded 
country,  the  home  of  the  trout. 

At  St.  Catherine  station,  six  miles  further  on, 
I  got  off  the  train  and  was  driven  a  short  dis- 
tance to  the  Lake  Mew  House,  on 

Lake  St.   Joseph 

This  is  the  lake  where  is  held  the  annual  regatta 
of  several  of  the  Quebec  boat  clubs,  and  is  a 
beautiful  sheet  of  water  five  to  seven  miles  in 
length.  The  length  is  governed  by  the  particu- 
lar one  of  whom  you  make  the  inquiry.  But 
whether  five  or  seven  miles  long,  it  is  all  the 
same  to  me,  as  I  got  14  miles  of  enjoyment  out 
of  my  stay  with  the  Whites,  who  keep  the  Lake 
View  House,  a  picture  of  which  I  took  with  my 
new  Camera.       It  was  my  first  effort,  and  if  not 

161 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

good  you  must  blame  it  on  the  camera,  for  I 
know  I  aimed  it  right  at  the  house  and  squeezed 
the  bulb  until  it  snapped.  This  is  a  great 
family   resort,   not    only    for    Quebeckers,      but 


LAKE  VIEW  HOUSE. 

Had  to  "  cut  "  it  after  all — fault  of  the  camera.  I  assure  you. 

many  from  the  United  States  have  sought  it 
out  for  its  fishing,  sailing  and  rowing.  Among 
others  I  met  here  the  two  Scotts,  Mr.  Eben 
Greenough  Scott,  the  well  known  Pennsylvania 
railroad  lawyer  and  trout  fisher,  and  Mr.  J.  .G. 
Scott,  General  Manager  of  the  Quebec  and  Lake  St. 
John  railroad,  who  is  also  General  Manager  of  the 
Great  Northern  Railway  of  Canada,  one  of 
the  most  able  railroad  men  in  all  the  Dominion. 
The  steamer  "Arizona"  being  out  of  commission 
when  I  left,  Ed.  Govro,  an  all  round  good 
fellow,  from  Chaumont,  New  York  State,  rowed 

162 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

me  over  to  the  Lake  St.  Joseph  station,  two 
miles  across  the  lake.  Ed.  said  that  the  trout 
fishing  in  St.  Joseph  was  most  excellent,  and 
Ed.'s  a  sportsman  of  the  sort  that  knows. 

Autumn  Leaves 

It  was  just  after  leaving  the  St.  Joseph  station 
.that  morning,  when  I  began  noticing  the  leaf 
coloring  of  the  maple  trees.  No  wonder 
Canada  chose  as  her  emblem  the  "  Maple  Leaf." 
A  more  beautiful  emblem  could  not  have  been 
conceived!  The  frost  had  begun  its  work,  and 
the  thousand  tints  of  red,  up  to  crimson, 
covered  all  the  mountains  in  every  direction.  I 
had  never  before  seen  such  forest  tinting  as  I 
saw  that  morning!  I  was  one  day  looking  at  a 
painting  in  which  autumn  leaves  were  predomi- 
nent.  I  asked  the  artist  why  he  colored  his 
leaves  so  red.  "  Wait,  wait,"  he  said,  "  until 
you  have  seen  our  maples  turn,  when  frost 
touches  them.  You  will  sec  that  I  have  been 
modest  in  my  coloring.  I  do  not  dare  paint 
them  up  to  nature.  No  one  who  has  not  seen 
our  auttunn  leaves,  would  believe  the  gorgeous- 
ness  of  their  reds,  Wait  until  you  see!"  I 
saw  them  that  morning  as  the  train  sped  along, 
and  then  I  fully  realized  what  the  artist  had  told 
me.  His  colors  were  very  bright,  and  yet  he 
had  been  modest  as  compared  with  those  moun- 

163 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

tains  of  red,  these  gigantic  paintings  not  made 
with  hands.  They  were  not  modest,  they  were 
simply  natural.  Further  north,  as  the  land  rose 
up  to,  and  beyond,  a  thousand  feet,  the  red  turned 
to  yellow,  the  maple  to  the  birch  tree.  I  love 
them  both,  for  both  are  beautiful. 

St.  Raymond 

is  twelve  miles  further  up  the  railroad.  It  is 
known  as  the  Swiss  village,  from  the  fact  that 
people  have  been  in  the  habit  of  comparing 
everything  wildly  beautiful  to  Switzerland  ;  but 
the  time  is  near  when  the  scenes  along  this  rail- 
road will  not  be  compared  with  those  of  any 
land,  but  will  be  known  for  their  own  particular 
beauty.  A  few  miles  back  from  St.  Raymond 
is  the  club  house  of  one  of  the  oldest,  most 
popular  and  most  select  game  and  fish  clubs  in 
Lower  Canada — the  '  Tourilli.'  of  which  Com- 
madore  J.  U.  Gregory  is  and  has  been  President 
since  its  birth. 

Rivere  a  Pierre 

is  the  junction  of  the  Great  Northern  Railway 
of  Canada,  a  road  that  is  destined  to  play  a 
great  part  in  the  new  Quebec — a  city  of  vast 
proportions,  whose  dawn  I  see.  After  leaving 
Riviere  a  Pierre  the  road  runs  into  a  great  fish 
and    game    country.        Many    clubs    have    their 

164 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

houses  in  it  and  not  for  from  the  railroad.  The 
Triton  Club  has  its  own  pretty  station,  and  can 
reach  the  club  house  through  winding  lakes  a 
few  miles  away.  President  Roosevelt  and  Ex- 
President    Cleveland   are   honorary    members   of 


THE  TRITON  CLUB   HOUSE. 

the  Triton,  whose  limits  cover  about  500  square 
miles  of  lakes,  rivers  and  mountains.  The 
Laurentides,  and  the  Stadacona  Clubs  arc  also 
in  this  country,  traversed  by  the  Batiscan  river, 
where  in  places  the  mountain  cliffs  reach  down 

165 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

to  the  very  water's  edge.  I  tried  to  "take"  one  of 
these  scenes,  but  my  photographer  tells  me  that 
I  failed — I  feared  as  much  as  it  was  so  very 
"  wild,"  and  the  train  was  going  so  fast  at  the 
time. 

Apropos  of  the  Stadacona  Club.  It  was  the 
first  one  located  in  this  section.  Its  membership 
is  confined  to  the  small  number  of  fifteen.  W.  H. 
Swift  and  Preston  Lea,  of  Wilmington,  Dela- 
ware, are  of  the  number.  To  the  Stadacona 
belongs  another  "  Yankee  in  Quebec,"  Captain 
Edson  Fitch,  who,  however,  may  have  lost  that 
title  from  a  residence  of  thirty-three  years.  The 
Captain  was  originally  from  Glens  Falls,  New 
York,  from  which  place  he  enlisted  in  the  War 
of  the  Rebellion,  and  after  several  years  of  army 
life,  he  came  to  Quebec,  and  has  been  most  suc- 
cessful in  mills  and  timber.  The  Captain  is  also 
a  member  of  the  Orleans  and  of  the  Lake  Au 
Lard  game  and  fishing  clubs,  besides  having  a 
private  hunting  and  fishing  limit,  with  a  beautiful 
camp,  on  Lac  Long,  a  few  miles  distant  from 
Stadacona, — See  this  picture  of  his  camp.  I 
could  not  but  note  the  strange  lake  formation  of 
this  locality.  You  see  Lac  Long  in  the  fore- 
ground, look  to  the  right  and  far  above  is  a  rock 
formation — almost  like  the  Palisaides  of  the 
Hudson, — at  the  foot  of  which,  ten  minutes  walk 
up  hill  all  the  way,  is  another  lake,  thus,  though 
See  Frontispiece. 
1 66 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  two  are  quite  near  together,  yet  there  is  a 
difference  in  leyels  of  possibly  loo  feet. 

Ah,    here    we  are,    113    miles   from   Quebec. 

LAKE  EDWARD. 

No  wonder  C.  B.  Wells,  of  Honolulu,  after 
travelling  6,000  miles  to  see  and  fish  in  this 
lake,  said  he  had  been  well  repaid  for  coming. 
"Six  thousand  miles  for  a  six-pound  trout!" 
said  he,  "Ah  me,  it's  worth  it!" 

I  didn't  intend  to  step  off,  but  when  R.  Row- 
ley, owner  of  the  Laurentide  House,  got  hold  of 
my  grip  and  said  he  knew  different,  I  concluded 
that  he  was  right,  and  now  in  my  calmer 
moments  I  fairly  "  bubble  oVer "  with  joy  in 
thinking  how  very  right  he  was,  for  not  to  have 
stopped  at  Lake  Edward  would  have  been  one 
of  the  mistakes  of  my  life.  I  hardly  know  how 
to  begin  telling  you  of  the  pleasure  of  those 
days  from  Thursday  until  Monday.  Now  just 
follow  me,  and  if  you  can  discern  the  full 
meaning  of  joy  in  words  you  will  know  how 
much  of  real  pleasure  I  had.  What  a  small 
world  is  this,  anyhow!  The  first  man  I  met  at 
the  hotel  was  R.  R.  McCormick,  of  Florida,  who 
spends  his  summers  at  Lake  Edward.  In  a 
conversation  he  asked  my  native  home. 
''  Springfield,  Ohio,"  said  I.     "  How  odd,"  said 

167 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec'. 

he,  "  that  was  once  my  home  too."  He  knew 
my  people,  and  we  were  soon  old  friends.  The 
world  is  small  indeed. 

STRANGE  THINGS  OCCUR 

and  oft  follow  in  quick  succession.  I  ate 
dinner  at  the  hotel  that  Thursday  with  a  Mr.  L. 
Humbert,  of  Belgium,  who  had  stopped  off  with 
his  manager,  F.  N.  Ritchie,  on  their  way  to 
Lake  Kiskisink — the  next  station— and  on 
Monday  he  was  again  at  the  hotel  wounded.  It 
was  an  accident — he  had  forgotten  the  hunter's 
rule — "  Never  carry  a  loaded  gun  on  your 
shoulder  with  muzzle  pointing  forward."  He 
slipped,  the  gun  was  discharged  and  the  ball 
went  through  his^knee.  It  was  far  away — thirty 
or  more  miles  away — and  Lake  Edward  the 
nearest  station.  Mr.  Ritchie,  who  was  with  him, 
did  all  that  mortal  man  could  do.  Thirty  miles 
through  a  trackless  forest  with  six  lakes  to 
cross.  He  set  men  to  cutting  portages,  and 
others  to  carry  the  wounded  man  in  a  boat  on 
tlicir  shoulders,  while  he  came  with  still  others 
to  Lake  Edward,  where  he  telegraphed  for  a 
surgeon  and  a  special  train — money  was  no 
object  as  the  dying  man  was  a  millionnaire;  but 
no  money  could  save  him.  The  portage  cutters 
and  carriers  after  working — (as  only  these 
wiry   Canadian    guides    can    work) — for    nearly 

1 68 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec . 

twenty-four  hours,  reached  the  station  in  an 
exhausted  state,  for  they  had  gone  the  whole 
time  with  ahnost  nothing  to  eat.  A  more  thrill- 
ing experience  of  the  woods  I've  never  come  in 
contact  with.  Robert  and  George  Rowley  gave 
their  lake  steamer,  their  guides  and  did  all  in 
their  power  to  aid  in  every  way,  but  help  came 
too  late,  as  he  died  before  the  train  reached 
Riviere  a  Pierre,  on  its  way  to  Quebec. 

BOB  SENDS  RUBE  MOOSE  HUNTING. 

"  I  will  give  you  two  of  my  best  guides,"  said 
Bob  Rowley,  on  Friday  morning,  and  if  he  has 
two  better  than  Philip,  the  Frenchman,  and 
George,  the  Indian,  they  are  indeed  good.  It 
was  a  new  experience  to  me,  this  sitting  on  the 
bottom  of  a  canoe  with  two  guides  at  either  end 
with  their  single  paddles,  propelling  the  canoe 
through  the  water  at  a  horse  trot  swiftness.  I 
wanted  to  sit  on  that  cross-piece.  I  thought  it 
would  be  more  comfortable.  Philip  said  I 
might  do  so  if  I  was  a  good  swimmer,  but  when 
I  looked  over  to  the  shore,  a  half  mile  away,  I 
concluded  that  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  was  far 
preferable  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  so  I  sat 
still. 

Say,  do  you  know  anything  about  guides?  If 
they  find  you  can't  shoot,  well,  you  hold  a 
small  ]ilacc  in  their  estimation  and  for  your  own 
J  69 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

comfort  you  had  better  practice  shooting  several 
days  before  going  out  to  hunt  moose  and 
caribou. 

RUBE  RESORTS  TO   STRATAGEM 

Now  I  didn't  have  any  kind  friend  to  tell  me 
this  like  you  have,  in  time  to  save  my  reputation. 
No,  here  I  sat  on  the  bottom  of  that  canoe 
feeling  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  and  hoping 
that  no  animal  larger  than  a  chipmunk  would 
show  its  head,  when  these  guides  sighted  one  of 
Rowley's  many  camps,  and  Philip  said  "There's 
where  you  try  the  rifle!'' 

"  What's  that  for?"  I  asked.  "  The  gun  is 
all  right,  see,  there  isn't  a  thing  the  matter  with 
the  gun;  why,  it's  new.  I  don't  see  what  you 
want  to  try  it  for."  Say — wasn't  I  getting 
scared!  If  those  guides  only  knew  that  I  hadn't 
even  shot  off  a  gun  for  many  years  and  then 
some  more  years,  they  might  let  me  sit  on  that 
cross-piece  and  take  my  chance.  No  I'll  not 
try  the  gun — that  is,  I  thought  I'd  not  try  the 
gun,  but  those  guides  paddled  over  to  that 
camp,  got  out  of  the  canoe  and  put  a  half  dozen 
cartridges  into  the  magazine,  then  looking 
around  for  something  to  shoot  at,  when  Philip's 
eye  caught  sight  of  a  rock  about  two  hundred 
yards  out  in  the  lake,  and  said,  handing  me  the 
gun,  "  There,  shoot  at  that  rock  and  we  can  tell 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

how  the  gun  works."  The  gun  I  knew  was 
all  right.  I  wasn't  worrying  about  the  gun,  but 
about  that  rock.  I  knew  if  I  didn't  hit  that 
rock  I'd  hit  the  water,  sure,  and  if  I  hit  the 
water  too  often  we  wouldn't  go  hunting  for 
moose  and  caribou  ;  and  I  did  want  to  hunt 
moose  and  caribou,  merely  to  see  what  sort  of 
birds  or  beasts  they  were.  ''  Shoot  and  we'll 
watch  the  rock." 

"Yes,  boys,  keep  your  eye  on  that  rock  and 
watch  me  hit  it." 

Bang — "  Good  shot,"  said  Phil — "  I  saw  the 
shot  strike."  Bang — "  Hit  it  again  !"  Bang- 
"A  third  time,  why,  man  you're  a  great  shot  !" 
And  I  emptied  the  magazine  without  a  single 
miss — according  to  Philip's  count.  "  Why, 
that's  wonderful.  It  was  never  done  before — 
now  let  the  moose  and  the  caribou  show  their 
heads  !"  and  into  the  canoe  we  got,  I  sitting  on 
the  bottom.  Philip  talked  in  French  to  the 
Indian,  and  the  Indian  looked  at  me  most 
approvingly  as  he  paddled  away,  singing  an  In- 
dian hunting  song.  So  Philip  told  me 
afterward. 

Say,  good  friends,  if  ever  you  go  to  Lake 
Edward  don't  invest  in  that  island  which  stands 
a  half  mile  away  and  in  range  with  my  rock 
just  because  you  find  a  lot  of  lead  in  it.  No, 
don't  do  it,       I  claim  a  prior  right  to  that  lead 

171 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

— I  had  it  first.  I  was  thus  saved  by  an  old 
trick  I  had  read  of  long  years  ago. 

This  shooting  ground  is  not  far  from  the 
Press  Qub  house,  which  we  pass  on  the  way 
down  Lake  Edward — ^Ah  the  fish  stories  this 
old  house  might  tell  !  See  the  picture  I  had 
Kennedy  take  at  this  point.  See  the  shadow 
effect  in  the  lake  and  read  further  on  where  I 
show  you  a  "  pencil "  drawing  of  one  where  a 
whole  lake  (Boquet)  and  not  a  part  is  taken, 
showing  this  shadow  efifect  encircling  it. 

The  Press  club  has  a  history  of  its  own.  It 
was  originally  The  Fin  and  Feather  Club,  made 
famous  by  Farnham,  in  his  letters  to  the  Harper's 
Magazine.  Kit  Clarke  was  then  in  his  palmy 
days.  Kit  is  famous  for  his  "  Where  the  Trout 
Hide." 

President  Chester  A.  Arthur 

was  a  member  of  The  Fin  and  Feather.  Adiron- 
dacks  Murray  had  a  private  camp  not  far  awav 
in  the  bay. 

A  Portage 

is  the  path  between  two  lakes.  It  is  often  so 
crossed  with  fallen  trees  that  you  may  step  from 
one  to  another,  or  you  may  in  places  stoop 
under  a  log,  and  yet  these  guides  will  carry,  one 
the  canoe  and  the  other  the  provision,  tents, 
tent  stove,  and  bedding,  and  you  must  be  a  good 

172 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

walker  to  keep  up  with  them,  and  when  you 
reach  the  next  lake,  just  try  to  pick  up  one  of 
their  loads  and  you  will  then  get  a  faint  concep- 
tion of  the  strength  of  one  of  these  men,  or 
again,  you  may  come  to  a  place  where  the  water 
is  shallow  and  a  guide  may  have  to  carry  you 
out.  Get  on  his  back  and  you  will  feel  that  it's 
not  a  man,  but  a  horse,  that  you  are  riding.  I 
will  here  explain  why  /  rode.  You  may  or 
may  not  know  that  French  measures  are  not 
always  the  same  as  ours.  Our  acre  is  43,560 
square  feet,  the  French  arpent — acre — is  but 
36,000.  Some  of  the  other  measures  are  also 
different,  but  I  never  knew  that  there  was  so 
great  a  difference  in  the  feet  until  I  tried  to  get 
on  a  large  pair  of  Rowley's  hunting  boots — 
that's  why  I  rode,  I  didn't  want  to  get  my  thin 
shoes  wet. 

Lake  Bouquet 

We  reached  a  camp  on  Lake  Bouquet  at  noon, 
where  we  stopped  for  dinner  and  then  pushed 
on  over  portage  and  lake  through  Lakes 
Eugene,  Algonquin,  St.  Stanislas,  to  Ecarte,  on 
the  further  bank  of  which  we  camped  for  the 
night. 

A  Shadow  Picture 

All  day  long  had  we  floated  on  through 
beauty  of  which  I  had  never  dreamed.     To  look 

173 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

upon  those  mountain-bordered  lakes,  with  the 
foliage  of  the  forest  changed  by  the  early  frosts 
into  a  thousand  shades  of  yellow,  with  the  green 
of  the  spruce  and  the  balsam  shooting  up  like 
giant  ferns  in  a  vast  bouquet,  was  a  picture  the 
like  of  which  I  had  never  looked  upon.  Oh 
such  a  picture  !  Would  that  I  might  feebly 
paint  it  for  you  !  Watch  while  I  draw  the 
outline,  as  that  is  all  my  power  of  pencil  can  do. 
The  lake  is  still,  not  the  slightest  breath  of  air 
moves  its  surface.  It  is  like  a  mirror.  You 
ask  ,the  guides  to  stop  while  you  look  upon  the 
scene  around  you.  The  mountains  rise  and 
hold  the  lake  as  in  a  cup.  No  axe  has  ever 
touched  a  tree  of  the  border,  and  nowhere  in  all 
the  circle  can  you  see  a  spot  uncovered.  A 
stillness  of  which  you  had  never  before  had  a 
conception  is  around  and  about  everywhere. 
Is  that  a  pretty  picture  ?  Ah  me — it  is  crude — 
look — look  now  into  the  miles  of  shadow  that  circle 
the  lake  border,  and  you  see  in  this  vast  circle 
a  painting  so  smooth  and  perfect  with  all  the 
colors  of  the  other  so  softened  that  you  feel 
some  giant  artist  had  run  his  finishing  brush 
over  the  whole,  intensifying  the  beauty,  and 
blotting  out  the  crude. 

I  didn't  want  to  hunt — I  didn't  want  to  fish — 
I    only    wanted    to   look,    for    never   in    my   life 


174 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

before,  had  I  seen  in  nature  so  much  that  was 
pleasing. 

Camped  on  Lake  Ecarte 

The  tents  were  put  up  and  supper  was  made 
ready,  and  for  once  in  a  long  while  I  was 
hungry.  You  who  know  not  what  it  is  to  enjoy 
being  hungry,  run  ofif  to  soine  Canadian  lake 
country,  portage  and  float  along  a  whole  day 
as  I  had  done  and  good  crisp  bacon  will  taste 
far  sweeter  than  the  tempting  relishes  of  a 
Waldorf  chef.  The  night  was  a  perfect  one. 
The  moon  was  full  and  shone  upon  the  lake. 
As  we  sat  and  talked  and  watched  the  moon 
and  the  stars,  I  remembered  having  heard  that 
the  guide  always  knows  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass. "  Philip,"  I  asked.  "  where  is  north?" 
"  There  !"  and  he  pointed  far  west  of  that 
course.  "  You  are  wrong,  that  is  north."  Then 
I  showed  him  how,  by  the  "  Dipper,"  he  could 
always  find  the  North  Star.  He  was  more 
willing  to  learn  than  was 

The  old  Connecticut  farmer 

I  once  tried  to    teach    direction.       "  Where    is 
north?"  I  asked  him. 

"Thar!"  and  he  pointed  even  farther  west  than 
Philip  had  done. 

177 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

''  No,  you  are  wrong,  that  is  north.  See,  that 
is  the  North  Star,"  said  I  pointing-. 

•' Cain't  help  it,  stranger,  cain't  help  it;  that 
has  been  narth  for  nigh  onto  sixty  yere,  an'  I 
ain't  er  gwien  ter  change  her  now,  stairs  or  no 
stairs!" 

The  Indian  cut  spruce  twigs  and  spread  them 
over  the  tent  "  floor "  and  placed  my  blankets 
down.  "Ah"  thought  I  "  what  a  soft  bed  I  will 
have  to-night"  ;  but  instead  I  could  have  been 
lifted  up  next  morning  without  bending.  /  was 
soft,  not  the  bed,  and  every  "  knob "  on  the 
ground  had  found  a  particular  soft  spot.  Re- 
minded me  of  the  night 

Bill  Bare  and  I  watched  our  peach  orchard 

with  a  shot  gun — not  to  hurt  but  to  scare.  We 
slept  on  the  ground,  The  peaches  had  been 
safer  had  we  slept  at  home,  as  the  first  peach 
poachers  who  got  into  the  orchard  were  <C'me 
wheat  threshers  starting  early  to  do  old  man 
Rocknell's  threshing.  They  fooled  around  so 
long  among  the  green  peach  trees  that  Bill  and 
I  felt  sorry  for  them  and  went  and  took  them 
to  the  "  good  tree."  Poor  Bill  is  dead  now.  He 
stole  a  horse,  was  sent  to  the  penitentiary, 
served  his  time,  came  back  home,  lived  it  down, 
and  died  one  of  the  most  respected  in  the 
county.  Others  of  us  were  sent  away  to  col- 
178 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

lege,  became  lawyers,  doctors,  book  writers,  etc., 
and  'tis  hard  to  tell  where  we  will  end.  Mayhap 
we'll  go  home,  too,  and  live  it  down,  who 
knows  ! 

Mrs.  Rogers'  rushes 

How  little  in  after  life  it  takes  to  remind  us  of 
''  when  we  were  boys,"  Lakes  Eugene  and 
Algonquin  are  connected  by  a  thread  of  a 
stream.  While  passing  through  this  stream  I 
could  reach  out  from  the  canoe  and  pull  from 
the  water  a  peculiar  rough  rush.  I  had  not 
seen  it  before  since  I  was  a  little  boy,  when  old 
Mrs.  Rogers,  w'ho  lived  up  in  the  "  Swamp," 
used  to  come  down  early  in  the  morning  with 
"her  Ben"  with  ten  cents  worth  of  these  rushes, 
and  after  getting  the  money  would  proceed  to 
spend  the  day.  I  used  to  think  she  was  a  fine 
old  lady,  because  she  always  said  I'd  be  a  great 
man,  as  I  was  born  on  the  same  day  with  "  her 
Ben."  The  good  things  we  hear  in  childhood 
seldom  materialize!  Ben  always  said  he  "didn't 
have  no  chanct."  Ben  was  a  thorough  investi- 
gator even  though  he'd  never  go  to  school.  He 
always  wanted  to  find  out  what  was  "  there." 
One  day  while  we  were  building  the  "  new 
house,"  Ben  and  his  "  Ma"  came  down  with 
their  dime  of  rushes  and  spent  the  day.  After 
he  had  examined  everything  else   Ben  thought 

179 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

he'd  like  to  find  out  what  was  in  the  cellar  of 
the  new  house.  So  he  opened  the  door  and 
went  down.  He  went  down  quicker  than  if  he 
had  only  waited  until  the  cellar  stairs  had  been 
put  in.  He  told  me  in  after  years  that  he  had 
never  been  more  surprised  in  his  life  than  he 
was  the  day  he  wanted  to  see  what  we  had  in 
the  new  cellar. 

It  was  an  early  breakfast  we  took  next  morn- 
ing, as  Philip  said  we'd  soon  be  in 

THE  GREAT  MOOSE  COUNTRY 

Philip  was  in  a  hurry.  I  wasn't—/  hadn't 
anything  against  the  moose,  poor  beast  or  bird! 
Why  should  I  want  to  hurt  the  animal  ?  No, 
I  was  in  no  hurry;  but  as  I  still  sat  on  the 
bottom  of  the  canoe,  I  had  to  go  as  fast  as 
Philip  and  George  chose  to  paddle.  We  soon 
came  to  the  short  portage  across  which  we  pass- 
ed, and  then  a  short  row  across  a  little  lake  too 
small  for  a  name,  and  here  we  stopped  and  left 
the  boat,  ''My  eyes!"  said  Philip,  "See  these 
tracks  !"  and  sure  enough  the  bank  showed 
where  a  herd,  or  flock  or  bevy — or  whatever 
you  may  apply  to  moose  and  caribou — had 
come  down  to  drink.  Tracks  enough  for  a 
herd  of  cattle.  "  ]\Ioose  plenty  !"  said  the 
Indian,  as  we  started  on  the  trail,  he  leading. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  hunted  after  an 

i8o 


TJie  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Indian;  but  George  was  safe,  unless  I  aimed  at 
something  else.  The  tracks  led  us  across  or 
along  a  two  mile  portage,  to  a  lake  whose  name 
translated  meant  "  Toad,"  There  Philip  said 
we'd  stop  for  the  day  and  watch  for  moose  and 
caribou.  Far  in  the  afternoon  I  got  very  tired 
being  still — I  wanted  to  go  into  the  woods  and 
hunt,  like  I  would  for  squirrels;  but  Philip  said, 
"  No,  we  must  wait  here." 

Poetry  saves  the  life  of  a  Moose, 

I  got  more  tired.  When  I  get  very  tired  wait- 
ing for  moose  and  caribou  I  always  go  ofT  and 
sit  on  a  log  and  write  poetry.  That's  what  I 
did  on  Toad  Lake  or  Lake  Toad,  I  forget  which, 
Philip  called  it.  Yes,  I  was  getting  on  well, 
had  gotten  four  lines  nearly  finished  and  would 
have  had  them  quite  so,  but  for  the  "  moun- 
tains" and  the  "  fountains,"  which  were  too  long, 
so  I  had  to  cut  off  one  end  of  each  and  let  it 
run  like  this. 

They    sing    of    the    lakes    in    the    land    of     the 
Swiss, 
Where  the  waters  are  kissing  the  feet  of  the 
mounts. 
But  give  me  the  lakes  of  the  land  of  the  maple, 
Where  the  waters  flow  free  from  a  thousand 
pure  founts. 
'Tis  the  land — 

i8i 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"Come  quick!"  yelled  Philip. 

"  Moose,  moose  !"  called  the  Indian.  It  took 
me  as  long  as  possible  to  get  there,  when  I 
boldly  grasped  the  gun  and  asked,  "  Where? 
Where?     Show  me  the  moose  !" 

"  Too  late,  he's  gone.  See  that  brush  over 
there?  he  ran  back  into  the  woods  at  that  point 
— ah,  if  you'd  only  been  here,  you,  who  shoot  so 
well,  could  have  gotten  him." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Philip,  it's  too  bad — we'd  had 
moose  wing  for  supper  sure."  Of  course  I'd 
have  killed  him  on  the  spot,  as  the  "  spot "  was 
only  three  hundred  yards  away.  Yes,  indeed. 
Nothing  but  the  poetry  ever  saved  that  moose  ! 
Who  says  poetry  is  not  useful  ?  These  few 
lines  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  animal,  (as 
Philip  thought) — or  my  reputation  as  a  marks- 
man— (as  I  knew)  and  los^  of  it — as  a  poet. 
What  matter,  it  doesn't  count  in  the  woods!  I 
was  bound  to  finish  that  poetry,  moose  or  no 
moose,  so  I  sat  down  with  the  gun  and  Philip, 
and  went  hunting  for  the  ends  of  the  lost 
"  mountains "  and  "  fountains,"  and  found 
them,  but  somehow  got  the  metre  broken  long 
toward  the  end,  and  no  plumber  within  forty 
miles,  so  I  had  to  let  it  go  at  that.  Go  back 
and  pick  up  the  lines  where  I  left  them,  if  you 
care  to  drive  through  with  me. 

where  the  Autumn  encrimsons  all  nature, 

182 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

A  thousand  bright  hues  bedecking  its  mountains, 
Where   the   trout   and   the   bass   sport   all   the 
day  long, 
As  they  bask  in  the  sun  at  the  lake's  cooling 
fountains. 
'Tis  the  land  where  the  sportsman  a  paradise 
finds, 
Where  the  moose  and  the  caribou  lazily  dwell, 
But    to   find   them    the    huntsman    must    rare 

patience  possess, 
.And  to  get  them  must  have — ah,  the  aim  of  a 

Tell. 
I  find  in  my  note  book  that  I  called  this 
"  poetry  on  a  log,"  but  there's  no  mention  of  a 
"  log  "  in  a  single  line.  I  must  have  meant — 
really  I  forget  what  I  did  mean — one  gets  so 
much  in  one's  note  book  while  hunting  for 
moose  and  caribou! 

The  Indian,  whom  we  had  missed  for  an  hour 
or  two,  came  in  with  a  glowing  report  of  the 
tracks  he  had  found,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake.  We  all  went  over  and  looked  at  the 
tracks.  The  Indian  was  right.  There  were 
tracks  of  three  big  moose,  very  recent  tracks, 
but  I  saw  no  moose,  fortunately.  We  came 
back  in  the  evening  to  our  camp  on  Lake 
Ecarte.  I  was  like  Senator  Proctor,  "  Oh,  so 
happy,"  but  for  different  reasons — he  because 
he  had  gotten  a  moose,  and  I,  because  I  hadn't. 

183 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

I  didn't  want  any  moose.  It  would  have  been 
an  extra  load  for  those  faithful  guides.  They 
told  me  that  moose  steak  was  good,  but  I  pre- 
ferred bacon,  as  I  didn't  have  to  kill  it,  and  we 
had  it  already. 

I  don't  like  to  kill.  I  have  read  Seton 
Thompson's  "  Animals  I've  met,"  and  I  have  a 
soft  place  in  my  heart  for  the  poor  things.  He 
wrote  on  "Animals  I've  met,"  I  could  write  on 

Animals  I've  nol  met 

and  could  tell  you  almost  as  much  about  them 
as  he  did.       For  instance  take  the  Caribou. 

The  Car-i  bou  is  an  animal  of  the  her-biv-er- 
ous  family.  It  has  four  legs,  and  has  two  horns 
most  of  the  year.  It  is  found  in  the  woods  of 
Can-a-da, — providing  you  can  hunt  better  than 
I.  It  is  a  pre-ca-rious  animal.  The  Car-i-bou 
is  also  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  species.  It  is  a 
bovine  that  has  either  been  there  the  day  before 
or  the  day  after  you  were,  and  if  you  want  to 
see  it  real  bad  go  to  some  well  regulated  zoo- 
logical garden  of  a  pleasant  Saturday  afternoon 
when  the  public  is  admitted  free,  or  drop  into 
the  Queen's  Hotel,  in  Alontreal,  when  game's  in 
season. 

I  trust  that  my  well  planned  excuses  for  lack 
of  success  will  be  accepted,  for  I  assure  you  they 
are  well  meant — but  real  quietly — it  zvas  a  bit 
184 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

embarrassing  to  go  back  to  the  hotel  with 
nothing,  when  nearly  every  hunter  before  me 
had  come  in  with  two  caribou  or  moose,  or  like 
that  Stewart  from  England  who  got  all  the  law 
would  allow  him  of  both;  and,  too,  my  New 
Jersey  neighbor,  Ernst  G.  Asnius,  who  came  in 
with  two  caribou  the  very  day  I  reached  Lake 
Edward. 

Rube  catches  an  Indian, 

I  did  a  bit  of  fly  fishing  on  our  way  back.  I 
watched  Philip  "  cast  the  fly,"  and  pull  in  the 
"  wily  trout."  How  easy  it  looked — almost 
like  "  cracking"  a  whip.  I  tried  it,  but  not  for 
long.  The  only  thing  I  caught  was  the  Indian's 
ear.  He  didn't  say  a  single  word  that  I  could 
understand,  but  he  did  do  more  talking  in  a 
few  minutes  than  I  had  heard  him  on  the  whole 
trip.  I  had  often  heard  of  the  ''  silent  Indian," 
but  the  people  who  had  written  about  him 
hadn't  viy  Indian  in  mind  when  they  wrote. 

RUBE  HEARS  OF  THE  LADY  OF  THE  TERRACE. 

When  we  had  gotten  back  to  the  beautiful 
Lake  Bouquet  and  while  passing  along  near  to 
the  further  portage — Philip  stopped  and  said: 
"  There's  where  I  ducked  the  Kid." 

"  Who's  the  Kid  ?"  I  asked. 

185 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

"What,  didn't  Bob  tell  you  about  him?  I 
thought  everybody  knew  of  the  Kid.  Why,  he 
was  here  nearly  a  month — only  went  away  last 
week.  He  was  with  an  old  gentleman  and  his 
daughter.  The  old  man  liked  him  but  the 
lady  hated  him,  and  would  give  us  extra  "  tips  " 
if  we  could  keep  him  away  from  her.  We  tried 
every  way  we  could  think  of,  but  he  would 
follow.  One  day  a  party  came  to  this  lake  from 
the  hotel.  The  lady  was  of  the  number.  They 
had  gotten  away  from  the  Kid,  but  he  followed. 
During  the  afternoon  he  was  with  me  in  my 
canoe.  I  saw  a  look  in  the  lady's  face  that 
said,  "  Philip,  a  big  tip  " — but  the  Kid  shared 
it  with  me — I  asked  him  to  stand  up,  and  as  he 
did  so,  I  gave  the  canoe  an  '  accidental,'  and  he 
went  over.  He  could  swim  but  little,  and  might 
have  drowned  had  I  not  called  to  him  to  stand 
up  and  wade  out,  which  he  did,  as  the  water  was 
only  up  to  his  chin.  The  tip  I  got  for  this  was 
the  largest  she  ever  gave  me,  and  I  do  think  it 
would  have  been  double  had  the  Kid  staid 
under." 

I  grew  interested — "  What  was  the  name  of 
the  fellow  you  call  the  Kid  ?"  "The  father 
called  him  Clarence,  but  the  lady  called  him 
'  It.'  " 

Ah  me,  here  were  my  people  of  the  Terrace 
again,  all  but  John — where  was  John  ? 

i86 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

I  asked  Rowley  where  this  family  and  "  It" 
had  gone,  but  he  said  he  didn't  know.  How 
often  had  I  thought  of  them  since  that  day  I 
first  saw  them  on  the  Terrace!  'Tis  ever  thus  in 
life,  meet  and  lose — meet  and  lose. 

Fish  Truths. 

We  have  heard  so  long  of  "  Fish  Stories  " 
that  to  run  across  a  "  Fish  Truth  "  is  refreshing, 
for  its  very  uniqueness.  "  What  is  a  Fish 
Truth  ?"  I  pardon  your  asking.  I  didn't  know 
myself  until  R.  Rowley  told  me.  It's  this,  a 
man  may  tell  of  catching  a  trout  as  large  as  a 
whale — no  limit  to  the  size  he  may  tell  about, 
but  no  fisherman  dare  draw  the  size  of  his  fish 
and  mark  on  the  drawing  the  weight  of  it  as 
other  than  absolutely  correct  to  the  ounce. 
Whenever  you  see  on  a  camp  wall  or  hotel  wall 
a  paper  or  birch  bark  fish,  with  a  weight  marked 
on  it,  you  can  wager  that  it  is  no  "  fish  story." 
All  about  Rowley's  hotel  office  at  Lake  Edward 
you  may  see  many  of  these  "  Truths " — my 
adopted  State  leads  ofif  with  that  well  known 
trout  fisher,  W.  Shaw,  of  New  Jersey,  with  a 
6  pound  trout  ;  E.  F.  Kuhen,  New  York,  5%  ; 
J.  C.  Rowley,  Boston,  5^/^  ;  C.  J.  Ranney,  Ohio, 
5%  ;  Wm.  Barnette,  N.Y.,  5.  These  are  but  a 
few.  This  section  of  country  is  becoming  more 
famous  each  year.     One  sportsman  tells  another, 

187 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

and  when  once  known  nothing  can  induce  the 
pleased  fisherman  to  go  elsewhere.  Somehow 
Bob  Rowley  knows  just  how  to  please  the  sports- 
man, and  with  his  400  miles  of  hunting  and 
fishing  grounds,  with  40  lakes,  has  a  limit  that  is 
almost  limitless.  How  I  wished  for  time,  I 
could  have  stayed  at  Lake  Edward,  and  kept  on 
staying,  the  place  is  so  interesting. 

Bube  leaves  the  lake — as  he  can't  take  it  with  him, 

After  leaving  this  charming  resort,  I  went  on 
up  or  down,  or,  rather,  both,  for  north  of  Lake 
Edward  thirteen  miles  the  limit  of  the  ''  up  "  is 
reached  at  a  height  of  1,500  feet,  then  its 
"  down  "  to  Lake  St.  John. 

All  the  way  along  the  railroad  there  is  a  chain 
of  lakes.  I  never  saw  a  country  so  full  of  them, 
and  all  are  beautifully  clear  and  full  of  fish.  It 
is  the  coming  Paradise  of  the  trout  fisher.  I 
might  say  is,  for  fishing  clubs  line  the  whole 
distance.     At 

Lake  Kiskisink, 

the  Metabetchouan  Fish  and  Game  Club  have 
their  Club  House.  It  is  made  up  of  many 
•wealthy  New  Englanders.  When  one  sees  the 
names  of  so  many  well  known  Americans  one 
can  hardly  feel  that  one  is  so  far  from  home. 
B.    W.    Kellogg,   Waterbury,    Conn.;   Amos    R. 

188 


OUIATCHOUAN  FALLS  NFAR  KOBERVAL 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Little,  Director  Pennsylvania  Railroad  ;  E.  S. 
Brewer,  and  D.  X.  Coats,  Springfield,  Mass.,  and 
many  others  from  the  States  are  prominent  in 
club  life  in  this  country. 

To  me  the   most  beautiful  of  all   these  chain 
of  lakes  on  the  "  down  "  section  of  the  road  is 

Lake  Bouquette, 

1 60  miles  from  Quebec.  It  is  long  and  wind- 
ing, and  beautifully  clear.  It  is  to  the  station  of 
the  same  name,  at  which  the  Nonantum  Club,  of 
New  Haven,  Conn.,  come  and  go  to  reach  their 
club  house  back  in  the  interior.  From  this  lake 
flows  the  Ouiatchouan  river,  and  near  Lake  St. 
John,  into  which  the  river  empties,  are  seen  the 
falls  of  he  same  name.  They  pour  over  a 
height  of  236  feet,  and  while  the  fall  is  not  sheer 
down,*  it  is  far  more  beautiful  from  the  many 
breaks,  which  cut  the  water  into  foaming  spray. 
The  volume  of  water  too  is  great.  It  is  utilized 
by  a  large  pulp  mill,  which  industry  is  becoming 
a  vast  one,  as  this  is  the  great  spruce  wood 
country. 

ROBERVAL. 

Is  the  northern  terminus  of  the  railroad.  I 
was  surprised  to  find  here  a  little  city,  with  many 
of  the  modern  conveniences  of  a  city  ;  electric 
lights,  waterworks,  etc.     I  am  fast  lo^ng  the  im- 

191 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

pression  that  this  great  northern  country  is  "  up 
where  the  seals  play."  Now,  many  of  you  will 
be  surprised  when  I  ask  you  to  get  down  that 
old  school  atlas  and  look"  it  over.  There,  now, 
I  knew  you  wouldn't  have  believed  that  the 
whole  of  England  was  further  north  than  Lake 
St.  John  !  Look  now  at  St.  Petersburg, 
Russia.  See?  its  on  latitude  60 — keep  on,  turn 
back  to  North  America  again  and — "  No,  you 
would  not  have  believed  that  60  runs  nearly 
through  the  centre  of  Hudson's  Bay?"  I  knew 
you  wouldn't.  I  didn't  myself.  Why,  all  up 
through  this  lake  country  you  see  farming 
going  on  as  you  will  in  many  of  the  old  settled 
States. 

When  once  a  railroad  is  built  on  beyond 
Roberval,  through  to  James  Bay,  there  will  be  de- 
veloped a  country  that  is  full  to  overflowing  with 
vast  wealth  in  mineral  and  timber,  while  the 
land  is  well  adapted  to  raising  fruits,  vegetables, 
and  many  of  the  small  grains,  and  for  pasturage, 
it  will  in  the  near  future  become  a  great  sheep 
grazing  section. 

"Cold  ?"  Now  you  think  just  as  I  did.  Why,  on 
Oct.  3rd,  in  1897,  Major  O'Sullivan  bathed  in 
James  Bay,  and  said  it  was  no  colder  than  he 
had  known  it  in  midsummer  in  the  Saguenay 
river.  This  can  be  relied  upon,  for  I  know  the 
Major.       If  once    a    railroad    reaches    this    bay 

192 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

there  are  tributary  to  it  4,000  miles  of  the  coast 
Hne  of  Hudson's  Bay,  from  which  could  be 
drawn  freights  enough  for  a  double  track  road 
to  Quebec. 

There  is  at  Roberval  a  good  hotel,  from 
which  steamers  run  across  the  lake  to  the  Grand 
Discharge — where  the  waters  of  this  vast  inland 
sea  become  the  Saguenay  river,  of  which  more 
later  on. 

One  might  well  spend  a  summer  here  with 
Roberval  as  the  centre.  In  all  directions  there 
are  points  to  visit  well  worthy  the  most  blase 
traveller.  It  would  be  something  new,  and 
that  is  what  the  old  traveller  is  ever  looking  for. 
He  has  seen  Europe  until  he  knows  every  point 
of  interest  on  the  Continent,  and  has  grown 
tired  of  looking  at  it.  Many  of  you  have  never 
heard  of  Lake  St.  John.  You  may  know  every 
lake  in  Switzerland;  but  here  is  one  you  have 
never  heard  of  and  yet  it  is  500  square  miles  in 
extent,  with  great  rivers  running  into  it  from 
north,  west  and  south,  whose  combined  length 
would  extend  more  than  one-third  the  distance 
across  the  Continent. 

Lake  St.  John  is  the  home  of  the  Ouananiche 
fish,  which  E.  T.  D.  Chambers  has  made  famous 
in  his  great  work,  "  The  Ouinaniche,"  published 
by  Harpers — a  book  that  every  angler  should 
have  in  his  library.     There  is  possibly  no  other 

193 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

fish  that  will  equal  it  as  a  fighter.     The  sport  is 
intensely  exciting". 


Montagnais  Indians. 

Near  Roberval  are  the  remnants  of  the  Moun- 
taineers, a  tribe  known  as  the  Montagnais 
Indians.  They  hunt  during  the  winter  and  rest 
during  the  summer,  or  act  as  guides.  My, 
Indian,  George,  at  Lake  Edward,  is  of  this  tribe. 
They  can  sing  fairly  well — If  you  should  be  wise 
and  stop  off  on  your  way  to  Roberval,  at  Lake 
Edward,  ask  Rowley  to  let  you  have  Philip  and 
George  as  guides,  and  when  you  get  out  on  one 
of  those  grand  lakes  ask  George  to  sing  "  God 
Save  the  King,"  in  Montagnais  language.  You 
will  enjoy  it — George  has  a  good  day  voice,  but 
oh  the  one  he  uses  at  night!  Take  my  advice 
again,  and  see  that  his  tent  is  not  in  ''  Snoring" 
distance,  that  is  if  you  are  in  need  of  sleep  your- 
self. I  had  always  heard,  "  how  lightly  sleeps 
the  Indian."  It  may  be  poetically  true,  but 
George  is  anything  but  poetical  when  it  comes 
to  night  work,  why,  I  couldn't  wake  him  with 
a  gun.  I  awoke  the  echoes  and  scared  ofT  any 
moose  that  might  have  been  within  seven  miles, 
but  George  slept  peacefully  on — yes — get 
George  to  sing — by  day.. 


194 


RUBE  "TAKES"  A  BRIDE  AND  ALMOST  "  TAKEa     A  GROOM, 
AT  ROBBRVAL 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
RUBE  DOES  SOME  PHOTOGRAPHING. 

At  Roberval  I  spent  one  day  taking  photo- 
graphs of  the  hotels,  lake — falls,  street  scenes, 
odd  vehicles,  stores,  churches,  people,  in  fact  I 
must  have  taken  them  all.  J.  A.  Roy,  the  car- 
penter, jeweller,  and  photographer,  was  very 
kind  to  me.  Every  time  my  camera  had  been 
all  "  shot  "  away,  he  would  "  load"  it  up  for  me 
in  his  "dark  room."  Roy  and  I  got  real  well 
acquainted.  I  wasn't  going  to  stay  long  in 
town  so  I  called  often.  He  didn't  give  me  much 
encouragement  though  about  results,  as  he  said 
photographs  taken  in  the  pouring  rain  weren't 
always  the  best;  but  I  held  the  umbrella  over 
the  camera  so  that  it  wouldn't  get  wet  and  kept 
on  "  shooting,"  I  always  try  to  be  obliging  and 
when  Otis  and  some  others  of  the  storekeepers 
would  come  out  and  ask  me  if  I  would  please 
"  take "  their  stores,  I'd  take  it,  and  go  on  to 
some  other  object.  Why,  really  I  do  think  I 
could  have  had  all  Roberval — if  my  "  plates  " 
had  held  out.  lUit  to  think  that  after  all  my 
work,  Beaudry,  the  "  developer,"  says  there  was 
only  one  good  picture  out  of  the  whole  lot.  I'm 
bound,  though,  not  to  lose  that  one,  so  there  it 
is.  "  What  is  it  ?"  now  really  you  must  excuse 
me.  Oh,  yes,  I  have  it  now — I  see  by  the 
marked  number  that  it  is  the  bride  and  groom 

197 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

from  Quebec,  standing  on  the  porch  of  a  little 
hotel — just  see  the  expression  of  contentment 
on  their  faces  !  They  don't  even  know  it's  rain- 
ing. 

C.  S.  COOK  SHOOTS  THE  RAPIDS. 

I  met  that  world  traveller,  and  good  fellow- 
to-know — Cook — C.  S.  Cook,  of  Boston.  He 
wanted  me  to  "  shoot "  the  rapids  with  him 
from  the  Grand  Discharge,  Lake  St.  John,  to 
Chicoutimi,  but  I  told  him  my  success  in 
"  shooting"  at  Lake  Edward,  and  that  I  was 
afraid  a  "  miss  "  in  the  rapids  shooting  would  be 
more  serious  than  the  other  sort,  so  I  let  him  go 
it  alone,  and  met  him  on  the  boat  next  day  at 
Chicoutimi.  (Where  the  Saguenay  branch  of 
the  Quebec  and  Lake  St.  John  railroad  ends, 
and  the  river  trip  begins).  He  had  much  of  the 
"  thrilling "  to  tell  about.  Sixty  miles  in  a 
canoe,  where  in  places  you  go  faster  than  a 
horse  can  run!  I  do  love  to  go  fast,  but  I  don't 
want  much  water  of  the  seething  and  foaming 
kind  around,  when  I  am  going  fast.  I  was  afraid 
that  I'd  miss  connections  at  Chicoutimi,  for  the 
trip 

DOWN  THE  SAGUENAY, 

and  to  have  missed  that,  with  all  the  surpassing,  in- 
describable beauty  of    the  weird,  picturesque  river, 

198 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

would  have  been  to  miss  in  every  way  the  most 
delightful  one  I  have  ever  had — and  I've  been 
going,  going,  all  these  years,  since  I  left  the  old 
farm  in  Ohio. — Is  the  Hudson  river  beautiful  ? 
It's  a  "  crick "  in  comparison  !  Are  its  Pali- 
sades grand  in  your  eyes  ?  They  are  little 
nursery  blocks  set  up  on  one  side  of 
the  "  crick  !"  I  won't  attempt  to  tell  you  of 
the  Saguenay.  My  power  of  description 
reaches  only  up  to  the  "  grand  " — the  Saguenay 
goes  so  far  beyond,  that  I  can  only  say  :  "  See 
it  for  yourself."  Go,  if  you  have  to  borrow  the 
money.  Your  creditor  will  forgive  you  the 
debt  when  he  learns  to  what  use  you  put  it — 
especially  so  if  he  has  seen  the  Saguenay  himself. 
W.  H.  H.  Murray  says  of  it  : 

"  It  is  a  monstrous  cleft  opened  by  earth- 
quake violence  for  sixty  miles,  through  a  land- 
scape of  mountains  formed  of  primeval  rock. 

'■  In  old  times  a  shock  which  shook  the  world 
burst  the  Laurcntian  range  asunder  at  its  St. 
lawrence  line,  where  Tadousac  now  is,  and 
opened  up  a  chasm  two  miles  across,  two  thou- 
sand feet  in  depth,  and  sixty  miles  in  length 
straight  westward,  Thus  the  Saguenay  was 
born." 

The  beauty  of  one's  surroundings  is  ever 
enhanced  by  good  company.  I  have  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  better  than  the  genial  spirits  who 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

made  the  hours  fly  along  as  we  passed  down 
the  river. 

And  these  were  those  "Genial  Spirits":  ]\Ir. 
Edward  C.  Thurnau,  of  Chicago,  and  his  accom- 
plished wife,  Mrs.  Annie  Louise  Thurnau,  cousin 
of  Secretary  of  State  John  Hay.  The  Boston 
contingent  were  :  C.  S.  Cook,  Dr.  J.  S.  Phelps, 
Dr.  D.  D.  Brough  and  that  all  round  newspaper 
man,  W.  C.  Grout,  of  the  Boston  "  Herald," 
and  Henry  T.  Oesau,  of  Bridgeport,  Conn. 
There  were  also  on  board  that  prince  of  good 
fellows,  E.  B.  Harris,  of  the  Q.  and  Lake  St. 
John  railroad;  in  charge  of  the  International 
Ticket  Agents'  Association,  to  whom  he  was 
showing  the  beauties  of  Canada.  There  were 
fifty  in  his  party,  and  if  I  might  judge,  The 
International  Ticket  Agents'  Association  will 
carry  back  an  impression  of  the  aforesaid  beau- 
ties, that  will  send  many  a  searcher  after  real 
pleasure  in  travel,  to  the  land  of  the  Maple  Leaf. 

What,  though,  was  my  surprise  and  pleasure, 
in  seeing  on  board,  "  The  Lady  of  the  Terrace." 
Her  face  shone  as  though  no  rain  had  ever  fallen 
''into  her  life,"  and  that  instead  it  had  been  one 
of  all  joy.  The  father,  too,  was  there,  and 
John  and  "  It,"  but  "  It  "  was  alone  during  the 
whole  way,  for  even  the  father  took  no  notice  of 
him,  all  his  attentions  were  paid  to  John,  How 
I  wished  to  know  their  history!     From  the  first 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

day  I  had  seen  them  on  the  Terrace,  their  Hves 
had  been  to  me  one  of  rare  interest — but  I  had 
no  means  of  knowing — will  I  ever  know?  Who 
can  tell  !" 

It  was  a  rainy  day,  what  matter — the  carriages 
at  the  various  landings  were  covered,  and  we 
"  saw  the  town," — Captain  George  Riverim 
always  giving  us  ample  warnings  with  the  boat 
whistle.  (Captain  Riverim  is  a  favorite  with  the 
ladies.     I  can  give  no  higher  compliment.) 

At  Tadousac  the  Saguenay  enters  the  St.  Law- 
rence. Here  we  drove  in  the  pouring  rain  to 
the  government  salmon  hatchery,  went  into  the 
little  old  Indian  church  built  in  1750,  on  the  site 
of  which  once  stood  the  bark  covered  hut  used 
in  1639  as  a  place  of  worship — making  it  one  of 
the  earliest  churches  if  not  the  first  on  the  St. 
Lawrence.  We  visited  the  Indian  boot  and 
moccasin  makers,  and  in  fact  found  in  our  short 
stay  about  every  place  of  interest  in  the  town. 
My — the  things  you  can  see  if  you  have  a  fast 
horse  ! — and  most  Canadian  horses  are  fast — if 
the  "  tip  "  be  sizable. 

We  pass  to  the  south  side  of  the  river  before 
reaching  Tadousac,  two  great  mountains  of  rock. 

We  had  all  seen  pictures  of  and  read  about 

TRINITY    AND    ETERNITY, 

but  for  myself  I  had  never  conceived  what  these 
203 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec 

capes,  as  they  are  called,  were,  and  I  don't 
know  that  I  can  tell  you,  so  that  you  can  under- 
stand what  these  awful  (that's  the  word)  rocks 
are.  Some  day  when  you  are  in  New  York 
City,  going  down  past  those  "  Sky  Scrapers  "  on 
Broadway,  stop  in  front  of  one  of  them,  the  one 
there  near  the  Post-Office, — call  it  300  feet  high 
— does  it  look  big  to  you  ?  Well,  just  imagine 
you  saw  a  building  extending  from  Bowling 
Green  right  up  town  nearly  a  mile,  then  imagine 
some  more,  this  time  that  you  had  piled  six  of 
those  300  feet  high  buildings  one  on  top  of  the 
other  and  you  have  "  Trinity,"  and  the  next  one 
you  come  to  on  the  way  down  a  mile  away 
across  a  sort  of  little  bay,  on  the  same  side  of 
the  river  is  ''  Eternity  "  "  Trinity  is  so  called 
from  the  three  distinct  gigantic  rock  steps  that 
form  one  side  of  it. 

There's  another  illustration  that  much  im- 
presses one.  As  you  pass  this  all  but  perpen- 
dicular wall  the  boat  moves  in,  as  you  think 
almost  against  the  rocky  side.  The  Captain, 
who  is  a  jolly  soul,  has  in  readiness  a  bucket  full 
of  stones.  "  Now  see  who  can  hit  the  wall !" 
"  Hit  it!"  why  of  course,  and  you  take  a  pebble 
from  the  bucket  and  merely  flip  it  out  like  you 
would  shoot  a  marble.  As  the  stone  drops  just 
outside  the  boat  you  toss  one,  then  you  jerk 
one,  then    you    throw    it    a    little,    and  perhaps 

204 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

finally  nearly  throw  your  shoulder  out  of  joint, 
as  I  did,  and  then  quit  trying  to  hit  what 
doesn't  seem  across  the  street  distance.  Dr. 
Broug-h  was  the  only  one  who  touched  it,  but 
the  Doctor  hasn't  been  long  from  the  Princeton 
"  team,"  Again,  if  the  Saguenay  were  empty 
these  piles  would  be  more  than  twice  as  high, 
for  the  water  is  two  thousand  feet  deep.  Oh,  I 
tell  you  this  Saguenay  goes  clear  beyond  a 
description  that  will  convey  to  the  mind  of  one 
who  has  not  seen  it,  for  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  with  which  to  compare  it.  You  have  to 
see  it  to  appreciate  it — words  of  the  writer  are  of 
little  help. 

At  Riviere  de  Loup  a  number  of  people  came 
on  board  who  had  been  spending  the  summer 
at  St.  Lawrence  Hall, 

CACOTJNA, 

five  miles  down  the  River,  called  on  ac- 
count of  its  beautiful  situation  and  fashion, 
the  Newport  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  one 
of  the  most  charming  resorts  of  Canada.  There 
is  found  everything  that  goes  to  make  up  an 
ideal  summer's  pleasure,  boating,  fishing,  tennis, 
golf — all  of  them.  It  is  becoming  the  great 
resort  for  Americans,  who  are  each  year  learning 
more  of  this  wonderful  country. 

At    Murray    Bay,    another    resort    of    fasiiion, 

205 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

more  people  came  on  board.  The  season  was 
over  and  they  were  returning  home.  Among 
the  number  was  one  of  our  own  great  men, 
Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  Judge  Harlan,  and 
his  family.  The  Judge  spends  his  summers  at 
Murray  Bay,  where  he  is  shortly  to  build  a  mag- 
nificent cottage. 

Miss  Lee,  daughter  of  that  noble  old 
general,  Robett  E.  Lee,  also  came  on  board. 
Mrs.  Thurnau  and  she  soon  found  that  they  had 


mutual  friends  and  our  little  party  was  added  to. 
Miss  Lee  is  possibly  better  known  by  Europe's 
nobility  than  any  other  American.  She  is  a 
clever  woman,  and  well  fitted  to  carry  America's 
credit  into  any  land. 

We    reached    Quebec    next    morning — and    so 

ends  a  trip  I  shall  never  cease  enjoying  as  long 

as  memory  is  vouchsafed  me.       I  shall  go  again 

and   again,   and   am   sure   I   will   ever   find   new 

206 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

pleasures — as  on  this  outing,  I  saw  but  the  out- 
lines of  what  can  be  seen  and  enjoyed  in 
swinging  round  the  circle  from  Quebec  to 
Quebec. 


WHERE  "A  CHANCE  ACQUAINTANCE 
WAS  WRITTEN. 

On  the  way  down  the  Saguenay,  Cook  (I'd 
call  him  "  Mr."  but  Cook's  not  that  sort,  he's  too 
good  a  fellow  to  Mister)  and  I  were  talking  of 
Wni.  Dean  Howell's  beautiful  story,  "A  Chance 
Acquaintance,"  which  opens  with  the  Saguenay 
River.  "  Do  you  know,  Ru^e,  where  Howell 
wrote  that  story  ?"  "  No,"  said  I,  "  but  I'm 
always  interested  to  know  where  books  I  like 
have  been  written.     Why,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  written  in 

GALE'S  OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP. 

"And  where  is  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  What,  you  wrote  a  book  on  Quebec,  and 
didn't  get  it  in  as  one  of  the  sights  of  the  old 
town?     Well,   you'd   better  try   it  over.        Why, 

207 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

I've  travelled  300,000  miles  and  have  hunted  up 
old  things  in  every  land  under  the  sun  and  found 
more  relics  worth  picking  up  in  that  shop,  than 
I've  ever  seen  in  any  one  place  outside  a 
museum."  One  of  the  others  of  the  Boston 
party  told  me  that  this  C.  S.  Cook  had  possibly 
travelled  more  than  any  other  one  American,  and 
that  his  beautiful  home  was  filled  with  rare 
curios,  that  he  had  picked  up  from  Kamskatka 
to  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  all  the  places 
between.  When  I  got  back  to  Quebec  I  went 
to  see  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  in  my  revision 
of  "  Points  of  Interest,"  you'll  find  added  one 
point  at  least  you  should  not  miss.  It's  worth 
going  through  just  to  see  what  odd  things,  and 
many  can  be  collected  under  one  roof,  and  there 
in  the  corner  Gale  will  show  you  where  "A 
Chance  Acquaintance  "  was  ''  made." 


208 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


Said  I  to  myself  said  I  : 

"  Rube,  which  one  hit  yoii  ?  " 

"  What,  do  I  look  like  a  stibstitutc  hit  by  o/ie  Shamrock  ?  ' 


209 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


QUEBEC     TEAM     INVITES     RUBE     TO' 

PLAY     LACROSSE,     WITH     BAD 

RESULTS  TO   RUBE. 

I  told  you  before  all  about  the  easy  ''  basket- 
ball-at-a-female-college "  way  that  football  is 
played  in  Quebec.  I  don't  know  whether  the 
boys  resented  my  description  of  their  game  on 
that  occasion  or  if  it  was  their  sociable  good 
nature  in  always  trying  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
the  sojourning  stranger;  but  be  that  as  it  may. 
I  was  the  stranger  and  they  took  me  in.  They 
said  they  had  another  game  which  they  played 
when  it  wasn't  so  warm.  They  didn't  say  what 
"  it  "  they  meant.  It  couldn't  certainly  have 
been  the  game  itself,  for  a  "  warmer  "  game  than 
lacrosse  I've  never  seen,  and  I  think  I  have 
helped  play  them  all  from  marbles  to  rock  fights. 
Yes,  they  took  me  in.  They  said  they  needed 
a  substitute  for  one  of  their  boys,  who  wasn't 
feeling  well  since  their  last  game.  They  didn't, 
at  the  time,  tell  me  that  he  had  been  in  the  hospi- 
tal ever  since,  and  was  likely  to  be  until  Christ- 
mas. No,  they  merely  asked  would  I  act  as 
substitute.  Now  I'm  not  going  to  stop  here  to 
dissertate    on    substitutes,    but    will    stop    long 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

enough  to  say  that  if  1  ever  get  two  invitations 
on  the  same  day  to  do  any  substitute  acting,  one 
for  war  and  the  other  for  lacrosse,  I  will  go  to 
v^ar,  if  either.  It's  much  safer  in  these  days  of 
long  distance  fighting.  But,  to  come  to  the 
point,  I  accepted.  The  game  was  between  the 
Shamrocks,  of  Montreal,  and  "  our "  Quebec 
team.  Now,  I've  nothing  against  Montreal. 
Montreal  is  a  fine  city,  but  I  do  object  to  their 
Shamrocks,  and  with  reason.  Why,  more  than 
half  the  time  they  mistook  me  for  the  ball,  and 
used  their  clubs  accordingly. 

At  this  point  in  the  narrative,  said  I  to  myself, 
said  I:  "  Rube,  which  one  hit  you  ?" 

"  Which  one  !  Do  I  look  like  a  substitute 
that  had  been  hit  by  one  Shamrock  ?  Better  ask 
which  one  didn't. 

That  Quinn  closed  this  right  eye,  just  as  Doyle 
was  trying  to  knock  a  '  fiy  '  off  my  ear,  and 
Dillon  and  Droyer,  not  to  be  outdone,  left  a 
number  of  places  for  court  plasters,  and  ban- 
dages, while  that  sly  Fox  enlarged  my  love  of 
home,  round  there  on  my  cerribellum,  just  as 
Ward  landed  on  the  oblongatta  back  of  the  other 
ear.  Oh,  it  was  awful  !  I  lost  all  interest  in 
lacrosse,  however,  when  Latimer  came  down  on 
this  arm,  as  McCarrey  caught  that  foot  reaching 
for  a  low  ball.  Jarratt  and  Kenny  also  did  their 
share    of    decorating,  while     I'll     never     forgive 

213 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Hiissey,  as  he  was  as  active  on  this  '  substitute ' 
as  were  McCHnchey  or  Hennessy.  Now  will  you 
ask  which  one  hit  me  ?  It  would  have  been  as 
easy  to  tell  '  who  struck  Billy  Patterson  '  as  who 
struck  this  '  substitute.'  " 

I  never  knew  before  that  I  had  so  many  avail- 
able places  to  hit,  and  I've  never  seen  an  instru- 
ment of  torture  so  well  designed  to  find  those 
places  readily  as  the  club  used  in  playing 
lacrosse.  You  see,  they  can  hit  so  many  places 
at  once,  and  in  the  hands  of  players  of  the  Sham- 
rock type  they  cover  the  ground  often. 

The  Shamrocks  are  certainly  most  skilful  in 
the  use  of  their  clubs.  I  don't  mean  by  this  that 
their  skill  is  confined  to  the  ball  used  in  the 
game — for  that  matter  they  seemed  to  have  verv 
little  to  do  with  the  ball  except  tO'  follow  it 
around  and  watch  us  throw  it  through  their 
wicket.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  about  this  game, 
but  I  can't.  I  was  too  busy  with  other  matters  ; 
besides,  it  wasn't  still  long  enough  to  describe. 
It's  an  Indian  game,  sort  of  a  cross  between  the 
war  dance  and  running  the  gauntlet.  This  latter 
game,  you  know,  was  where  if  the  player  came 
out  alive  he  had  won,  and  if  he  was  killed  they 
danced  at  his  wake,  and  there  you  are.  I  came 
out  alive,  'tis  true,  but  I've  not  yet  found  out  if 
I  won,  and  I  don't  propose  to  try,  neither  do  I 
propose  ever  again  to  play  lacrosse,  especially  if 

214 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  Shamrocks,  of  Montreal,  are  on  the  other 
side — their  striking  is  too  promiscuous.  No,  I 
shall  never  play  that  Indian  game  again.  I'd 
rather  die  of  old  age.  It  may  be  more  lingering, 
but  I  prefer  it. 


>* 


215 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


MUSICAL  QUEBEC. 

I  have  spoken  of  Joseph  Vezina  in  connection 
with  the  musical  features  of  Quebec.  I  find  that 
the  old  capital  can  well  take  a  pride  in  what  it  is 
giving  .to  the  world  in  this  line.  Few  cities, 
ancient  or  modern,  have  produced  musicians 
beyond  mediocre,  and  what  I  have  here  to  say 
goes  beyond  a  local  interest.  It  is  said  that 
what  interests  New  York  City  interests  the 
world.  That  city  offered  a  large  prize  to  the 
best  child  pianist.  Berthe  Roy,  12  years  old,  of 
Quebec,  took  it,  over  800  competitors,  and 
to-day  is  there  at  the  National  Conservatory  of 
Music.  At  the  Pan-American,  at  Buffalo,  high 
honors  were  paid  to  a  boy  organist,  that  boy  is 
H.  Gagnon,  of  Quebec.  One  day  a  man  met  me 
on  the  street  and  said,  "  I  would  like  you  to  hear 
my  boy  play."  I  nerved  myself  up  to  a  point 
where  I  could  stand  being  bored,  and  went  to 
hear  him.  To  my  great  surprise  I  had  gone  to 
219 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

hear  a  genius,  Fearing  lest  my  musical  know- 
ledge had  been  too  meagre  to  judge,  I  asked  my 
friend  Edward  Thurnau,  who.  had  managed 
Joseph  Hofifman  on  one  of  his  American  tours, 
and  for  years  had  had  charge  of  the  Thomas  Or- 
chestra, in  Chicago,  to  go  with  me,  to  hear  the 
child — as  that  he  is,  and  small — I  was  right. 
Thurnau  pronounced  him  a  wonder  ! 

Will  Quebec,  for  the  pride  of  city,  give  to  the 
world  this  genius  ?  Oh,  how  easy  for  the  city 
to  do  that  for  which  it  will  one  day  be  proud  of 
having  done!  Make  it  possible  for  the  develop- 
ment of  this  genius.  A  concert  would  start  the 
fund  and  there  is  talent  at  home  to  give  one,  and 
thus  all  could  feel  that  they  had  helped — I  beg 
not  for  the  child — I  beg  only  for  the  world,  for  it 
is  due  the  world  that  this  genius  should  be  given 
it.  Quebec,  will  you  give  to  the  world  this  child 
genius  ?  You  gave  to  New  York  City  its 
greatest  photographer  —  Sarony  —  give  us  a 
photographer's  son — Remi  Wilfred  Beaudry. 

If  I  were  wealthy  how  I  would  like  to  help 
such  as  he.  I'd  a  thousand  times  prefer  it  to 
putting  up  the  "  second  story  and  spire  "  of  some 
rich  church,  even  if  they'd  place  my  name 
in  brass  in  the  vestibule,  where  everybody  might 
see  it  as  they  passed.  It  would  be  a  more  endur- 
ing pleasure  and  not  half  so  conspicuous. 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


When  I  told 

COMMODORE  J.  U.  GREGORY, 

of  my  Moose  Hunt,  he  seemed  to  think  it  his 
duty  to  even  things  up  a  bit.  "  Never  mind, 
Rube,  you  come  up  to  dinner  to-morrow,  and 
you  will  find  what  moose  steak  is  like.  My  friend 
Colonel  Chas.  H.  Raymond,  of  New  York  City, 
and  Dudley  Olcott,  of  Albany,  were  down  in  the 
Restigouche  country  and  shot  three  moose.  They 
sent  me  a  '  quarter.'  "  Now,  I  was  like  the 
chaplains  in  the  army,  while  they  told  the  boys 
how  very  wicked  it  was  to  steal  chickens,  they 
seldom  refused  "  chicken,"  and  I  didn't  refuse 
moose,  when  next  day  the  Commodore  gave  me 
the  third  "  helping " — Don't  know  how  much 
longer  I'd  have  kept  on  if  the  moose  hadn't  given 
out  first.  I  merely  tell  you  this  to  let  you  know 
how  well  I  liked  moose.  But  speaking  of  the 
Commodore,  while  he  does  not  rank  himself 
among  the  Quebec  literati,  he  has  a  ready  pen 
and  a  yet  more  ready  wit.  He  has  written  quite 
largely  on  fishing  and  hunting,  and,  unlike  many 
who  write  on  those  subjects,  has  done  much  in 
both  sports,  as  the  walls  of  his  office  hung  by 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

many  a  trophy  of  rod  and  gun  bespeak.  His 
exhibit  of  fishes  at  an  Exposition  in  London 
won  a  gold  medal  and  i,ooo  dollar  prize  for  the 
best  mounted  specimens  of  fish.  The  .Commo- 
dore has  fished  and  hunted  from  Labrador  to 
Florida,  and  by  the  way  has  picked  up  enough 
for  a  dozen  volumes  of  entertainment.  He  has 
furthermore  often  figured  in  the  story  of  others. 
You  will  find  him  often  mentioned  in  one  or  the 
other  of  LeMoine's  works,  especially  in  the 
"  Legends  of  the  St.  Lawrence,"  where  he  is  a 
prominent  figure,  also  in  ''  The  Chronicles  of  the 
St.  Lawrence."  I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the 
Commodore  being  the  President  of  the  Tourilli 
Fish  and  Game  Club,  in  the  list  of  membership 
of  which  I  find  many  prominent  and  familiar 
names:  George  M.  Fairchilds,  Cap  Rouge  ; 
S.  L.  Husted,  Col.  Chas.  H.  Raymond,  E.  D. 
Bushnell,  Geo.  B.  Post,  Ed.  Van  Ingen 
and  many  others,  of  New  York  City.  Mayor 
Carter  H.  Harrison,  and  Alfred  B.  Cowles,  of 
Chicago,  111.  In  fact,  from  Winslow  Homer, 
of  Scarboro,  Maine.,  to  W.  I.  De  Renne,  Savannah, 
Georgia.  Its  secretary  is  Capt.  Geo.  Van  Fel- 
son, — everybody's  friend — of  Quebec. 

We  often  wonder  how  it  is  that  we  find  the 
same  good  story  told  in  many  lands.  It  is 
carried  by  the  Gregorys  of  travel.     I  never  heard 


222 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

THE  EGG  FLIP  STORY  OR  THE  BOY 
WHO  CAME  DOWN  TO  DICKER, 

told  so  well  as  the  Commodore  can  tell  it. 
"  What,  you  never  heard  it  ?  Want  to  hear  it  ?" 
Of  course  I  can't  tell  it  like  he  did,  for  it's  a  toss 
up  between  him  and  "  Chauncey"  when  it  comes 
to  story  telling  as  is  story  telling.  I  surprised 
the  Commodore,  however,  when  he  had  finished, 
by  telling  him  that  I  knew  the  original  of  the 
story.  Yes,  I  knew  Gus  well.  I'd  give  you  his 
other  name,  but  Gus  is  larger  than  I,  and  we 
may  some  time  meet  and  Gus  is  not  to  be  trifled 
with  when  it  comes  to  that  episode  in  his  life. 
Gus  wasn't  always  the  pink  of  perfection  in  dress 
and  courtly  manner  that  you  find  him  to-day. 
Ah  no,  he  was  once  as  "  green"  and  gawky  as 
any  of  us  country  boys.  He  lived  out  near  Lee 
Town,  west  of  Charlestown,  West  Virginia. 
Charlestown,  you  remember,  was  where  Old 
John  Brown  was  tried  for  treason  and  hung. 
Some  said  to  a  sour  apple  tree;  but  not  so,  even 
if  relic  hunters  did  carry  away  piece  by  piece  an 
apple  tree  that  grew  near  by  where  the  scaffold 
was  built,  until  when  I  lived  there  one  year  in 
the  eightys,  these  hunters  were  at  work  on  the 
little  stump  left  to  tell  where  once  the  tree  stood. 
But  then  about  Gus.  One  day  Gus  went  down 
to  Cochrane's  store  in  Harper's  Ferry,  some 
223 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
twelve  miles  away,  to  "  dicker,"  He  slipped  in 
easy  like  and  simply  "  stood  round  "  until  Old 
Cochrane,  a  little  man  nearly  as  broad  as  he  was 
long,  got  through  waiting  on  all  the  other  custo- 
mers, then  coming  up  to  Gus,  said,  "Well,  my 
young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?' 

"  Wall,  I  reckon,  I  reckon  you  dicker  down 
here  at  this  ere  store,  don't  cher  ?" 

''  Yes,  occasionally,  what  have  you  to  dicker 
this  morning  ?" 

"  Wull,  I  reckon,  I  reckon,  I've  got  an  aig." 

"  Yes,  and  what  do  you  'reckon'  you  want  for 
your  'aig'?" 

Gus  stood  on  one  bare  foot  and  toyed  with  it, 
with  the  other  foot  which  was  loose  and  wasn't 
doing  much  except  "  toy  "  during  the  dickering. 
"  Wull,  I  reckon — "  then  he  stopped  to  take  in 
the  whole  situation,  lest  he  make  a  mistake  in 
his  choice.  "  Say,  storekeeper,  I  reckon  you 
can  give  me  a  darn  needle  for  Granny." 

The  needle  was  "  dickered "  for  the  ''  aig," 
but  Gus  still  stood  round. 

"  Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Say  mister  storekeeper,  see  here,  when  a  fel- 
low comes  to  your  store  for  the  very  first  time  in 
his  life  to  dicker,  don't  you  treat  ?" 

"  In  your  case,  yes.     What  will  you  have  ?" 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  take  an  "  aig  flip."     Gus 

was  sure  that  Cochrane  had  at  least  one  ''  aig." 

"  How  do  you  make  an  egg  flip?" 
224 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


READ 

'MY    FRIEND 
BILL" 


"  What,  deon't  cher  know  heow  to  make  an 
aig  flip  ?     Willi  you  air  green.     Why,  yo  take 

an  aig,  a  fresh  aig,  and  put  it  into  a  tumbler — 
a  large  tumbler — put  in  water,  a  very  Icctle  water, 


225 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

and  then  fill  up  the  tumbler  with  rye — an'  the 
older  the  rye  the  better  the  flip,  and  then  you 
shake  it  up  with  a  spune,  an'  you've  got  a 
beveridge  as  is  a  beveridge." 

The  flip  was  made  with  Gus's  "  aig,"  he 
watching  that  too  much  water  didn't  get  into  it 
to  weaken  it.  When  he  had  finished  it  and  said 
a  long  drawn  out,  contented  "Ah,  that  wus 
good!"  with  a  pleased  shake  of  the  head,  he 
looked  at  Old  Cochrane  and  said  :  "  Sa%  Mr. 
Storekeeper,  I  reckon  you  owe  me  another  darn 
needle  fur  Granny." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out  ?" 

"  Why,  you're  not  blind  air  you  ?  didn't  you 
you  notis',  didn't  you  notis'  that  that  air  aig  was 
a  dubble  yelker?  Yes,  it  wus,  an'  I  want  the 
other  needle  " — and  he  got  it. 


O' 


C^^ 


226 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
HOME  FOLKS. 
It's  always  a  pleasure  to  meet  "  home  folks," 
when  away  in  another  country — if  not  for  them- 
selves— for  the  memories  of  home  they  bring  to 
mind;  but  when  combined,  it  is  a  pleasure  indeed! 
This  was  the  double  delight  I  felt  on  meeting, 
one  day,  Albert  H.  Vernam,  broker,  banker, 
philanthropist,  of  New  York  City  and  Morristown, 
N.J.,  who,  with  his  charming  wife,  was  visiting 
Quebec  and  its  environs  for  the  first  time.  It  is 
a  rare  joy  to  meet  a  man  whose  success  in  life  has 
been  so  great  that  we  instinctively  think  of 
Aladin,  and  yet  find  untouched  those  qualities 
we  so  much  admire  in  man.  We  too  often  find 
wealth  crushing  out  of  the  heart  all  the  sweeter 
things  of  life,  leaving  naught  but  sordid  love  of 
gain.  I  have  watched  the  growth  of  wealth,  seen 
the  cheery,  light  hearted  boy  changed  by  it  into 
a  simple  coin  machine,  have  seen  those  sweet 
qualities  I  once  loved,  turn  into  qualities  so 
vastly  different  that  the  only  pleasure  of  the 
meetings  in  after  years,  was  that  felt  in  getting 
out  of  his  presence.  With  Albert  H.  Vernam 
wealth  is  but  a  means.  It  has  but  strengthened 
the  human  in  his  heart  and  not  crushed  it  out. 
His  presence  is  sunshine,  and  is  never  shunned 
by  the  friends  of  other  days.  Mr.  Vernam  is 
much  like  my  travelled  friend,  C.  S.  Cook,  genial 
and  companionable.  Both  he  and  Mrs.  Vernam 
were  greatly  pleased  with  Quebec. 
227 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
THE  LADIES  OF  QUEBEC. 

"  Rube,"  said  the  Colonel,  one  day,  after 
reading  the  first  edition.  "  I  notice  you  have 
much  to  say  about  the  men  of  Quebec,  and  but 
little  about  the  ladies.  Weren't  you  pleased 
with  them  ?" 

"  Pleased?"  said  I—"  Pleased!  Why,  Colonel, 
I  didn't  dare  to  begin  a  mention  of  them,  in  so 
small  a  book.  I'd  have  been  credited  with  writ- 
ing a  city  directory  before  I  got  through  with 
it.  No,  Colonel,  I  didn't  dare  begin  to  speak  of 
the  ladies  of  Quebec." 

That  reminds  me  of  one  day  the  Colonel  was 
asked  by  a  lady  how  he  liked  Quebec.  "  Very 
well,  very  well,  indeed.  I'm  like  my  friend, 
Rube,  here,  he  says  he  always  closes  his  eyes 
when  he  sees  anthing  he  don't  like  !"  "  Why, 
Colonel,"  said  she,  "  I've  never  seen  you  close 
your  eyes."  "And  you  never  will  !"  The 
Colonel  is  so  gallant. 


228 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
RUBE  GOES  TO  MONTREAL. 

I  wanted  to  see  the  St.  Lawrence  river  by  day- 
light. I  wanted  to  go  by  the  Beaver  Line  of  the 
Elder  Dempster  and  Co.,  but  found  it  did  not 
carry  passengers  between  Quebec  and  Montreal, 
excepting  those  going  to  and  from  Europe,  so  I 
had  either  to  go  as  freight  or  as  the  guest  of  the 
Captain,  but  when  I  found  that  the  Lake 
Megantic's  captain  was  Charlie  Thompson,  I 
chose  to  go  as  his  guest  and  a  fine  host  he  is, 
too.  There  were  on  board  a  large  number  of 
tourists  returning  from  Europe,  as  well  as  many 
coming  to  America  for  the  first  time. 

This  is  becoming  a  favorite  line  for  American 
tourists  going  to  and  from  Europe,  they  come 
to  Montreal,  see  Canada,  then  take  one  of  these 
magnificent  palace  steamers  either  at  Montreal 
or  Quebec,  float  down  the  beautiful  St.  Lawrence 
for  800  miles,  ever  in  sight  of  land.  It  is  pleas- 
ant sailing,  smooth  and  comfortable,  and  saves 
nearly  i,ood  miles  of  a  tedious  ocean  voyage. 
If  the  tourist  have  not  the  time  to  see  Canada,  he 
can  leave  New  York  in  the  morning  over  the 
New  York  Central,  reach  Montreal  in  the  even- 
ing, go  on  board  at  once,  and  sail  away  in  the 
morning,  or,  from  the  West,  Montreal  is  reached 
by  the  Canadian  Pacific,  the  Grand  Trunk  or  by 
boat  through   tiic  Thousand  Islands,  by  one  of 

229 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

the  Richelieu  and  Ontario  Navigation  Com- 
pany's boats,  through  scenery  unsurpassed 
for  beauty,  making  this  the  most  direct, 
as  well  as  the  most  deh'ghtful  route  of 
ocean  travel.  I  noted  particularly  the  difference 
in  size  of  the  state  rooms  between  the  Beaver  and 
many  of  the  other  ocean  going  lines.  Why,  the 
room  I  had  was  as  large  and  comfortable  as  a 
room  in  a  hotel,  and  not,  as  too  often,  a  cramped 
box  to  sleep  in.  We  are  too  apt  to  think  that 
what  we  have  at  home  is  all  there  is.  Now  just  ■ 
see  what  a  great  line  of  steamers  I  found  up  here 
that  many  of  you  never  heard  of, 

One  hundred  and  twenty-six  steamers. 

and  many  of  them  veritable  floating  palaces.  It's 
head  is  the  man  known  as  the  Napoleon  of  the 
shipping  world.  Sir  A.  L.  Jones,  knighted  by 
King  Edward  the  Seventh,  on  the  occasion  of 
his  (the  King's)  birthday,  November  ninth,  1901, 
He  has  proven  that,  not  only  in  America,  but  in 
Conservative  England,  can  a  man,  by  his  own 
efforts,  climb  from  the  bottom  to  the  top.  Under 
his  guidance  the  Elder,  Dempster  Line  has  been 
brought  up  to  the  proud  position  of  flying  the 
British  flag  over  a  larger  fleet  of  merchantmen 
than  any  other  in  England,  and  yet  their  busi- 
ness is  so  great  that  often  additional  vessels  have 
to  be  chartered  to  meet  the  demands  on  them. 
230 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

A.S  I've  said  before,  one  of  the 
pleasures  of  travel  is  the  people  one  meets. 
Principal  Grant,  who  was  made  a  C.  M.  G.  by 
the  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  York,  was  on  board, 
returning  home  from  England.  Through  our 
mutual  friend.  Rev.  Mr,  Love,  of  Quebec,  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  this  noted  instructor,  and 
found  him  in  every  way  a  most  charming  man, 
well  worthy  his  recent  honor. 

I  also  met  a  man  who  knew  even  less  of  geo- 
graphy than  I  do  myself.  He  was  just  arriving 
in  the  country  for  the  first  time. 

He  knew  less  than  Bube, 

As  we  were  coming  into  Lake  St.  Peter,  a 
large  widening  of  the  St.  Lawrence  into  a  lake, 
this  man  came  up  to  me  with,  "  Excuse  me,  I  beg 
youah  pahdon,  but  kindly  tell  me,  will  youah, 
what,  ah,  lake  is  this  ?" 

"  Lake  St.  Peter,"  I  answered.  "  Ah,  thank 
you  !"  and  I  lost  him  for  a  half  hour.  At  the 
end  of  which  time  he  left  a  friend  and  came  to 
me  again.  "  Pahdon  me  again,  but  what,  ah, 
lake  did  you  say  this  was  ?" 

"Lake  St.  Peter." 

''  Ah,  I  have  been  mistaken,  I  have,  ah,  just 
told  my  friend  heah  that  it  was,  ah.  Lake 
Superiah," 

231 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Little  Dorathy  and  "  the  other  fellow." 

Little  Miss  Dorothy  Gilbare,  of  Montreal, 
when  we  came  to  those  buoys  that  mark  the 
channel,  excitedly  asked,  "  Oh,  mama,  see  that 
barrel  out  there,  what  is  it  doing  there  ?" 

"  That  isn't  a  barrel  darling,  that  is  a  buoy." 

"Ah!"  contented  with  the  answer. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  came  to  another,  when 
Dorothy  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  mamma,  see,  look 
quick  !     There's  another  fellow  !" 

Dorothy  was  a  great  pet  with  everybody — one 
of  those  dear  little  children  that  you  want  to  get 
hold  of  and  love. 

This  was  my  first  visit  to  Montreal,  a  city  that 
reminded  me  at  once  of  Indianapolis,  Indiana. 
Don't  know  why,  but  it  did. 

Rube  gets  lost  again, 

Its  street  system  is  wrong,  though,  and  unlike 
the  perfect  one  of  that  other  city.  I  got  lost 
several  times.  "  No,  I  don't  mean  that  way  !" 
A  fellow  here  who  wasn't  elected  the  last  time  he 
ran,  just  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  the  streets, 
anyhow — I  told  him  some  of  them  were  very  fine. 
"  No,  but  the  others  ?"'  he  was  one  of  those  per- 
sistent fellows  you've  met,  "are  they  as  good  as 
Illinois  roads  ?"  Say,  that  fellow  had  never 
been  to  Illinois,     I  remember  once  while  visiting 

232 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec, 

Uncle  Cornelius,  near  Springfield,  of  a  poor 
fellow  coming  up  the  road  on  the  fence.  He 
wanted  uncle  to  bring  down  horses  and  pull  him 
out,  said  he  was  stuck  with  a  four  horse  team. 
Uncle's  dyspepsia  was  worse  that  day  than  usual 
and  he  was  a  little  crabbit."  Why  don't  you  unload 
and  pull  out  yourself?"  ''  That's  the  trubble.  I 
cain't,  I've  got  an  empty  wagon."  "  Heard  that 
story  before,  eh  ?  well,  I  don't  doubt  it — for  this 
is  not  the  first  time  I  told  it.  You  may  have 
heard  me  the  other  time."  *  But  to  go  back,  as  I 
said — I  got  lost  several  times.  I'd  be  walking 
along  one  street  and  without  making  a  turn  I'd 
be  on  another,  then  I'd  ask  a  policeman  "  Where 
am  I  at  ?"  and  he'd  answer  in  good  New  York 
"  accint,"  "  Ye're  ahn  the  saim  wan  ony  its 
different."  Then  I'd  go  on  and  get  lost  again. 
You  see,  it's  this  way,  Montreal  had  just  so  many 
names  to  use  for  street  purposes,  and  not  having 
enough  streets  for  the  names,  she  began  the 
naming,  and  when  the  streets  gave  out,  she  went 
back  over  the  ground,  and  gave  the  unused 
names  a  place  at  one  end  or  another  or  in  the 
middle  of  an  already  named  thoroughfare  until 
all  the  names  were  utilized.  It's  all  right  when 
you  find  out,  but  unhandy  for  the  stranger. 
Why,  start  north  on  St.  Peter  and  you'll  run  into 
and  through  Bleury  to  and  through  Park  avenue 

*  This  Mas  written  before  I  had  seen  all  the  Montreal  streets. 
233 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

before  you  get  through  the  city.  For  instance 
again,  you  may  be  walking  along  Bon  Secouri 
street  (the  translation  of  which  is  "  Good 
Succor")  enjoying  life  and  feeling  at  peace  with 
most  of  the  world,  until  you  have  crossed  Craig 
street,  and  gone  a  block  or  two,  when  all  at  once 
you  look  up  and  see  on  the  side  of  a  house  a 
name  that  makes  you  stop  and  in  surprise 
exclaim:  ''Why — 

"  Your  name's  Denis," 

I  never  knew  before  where  this  expression  came 
from  as  applied  to  a  sudden  change  of  name;  but  it's 
right  in  Montreal,  and,  oh,  how  appropriately 
it  fits  in,  too.  As  see  this  moral.  If  in  your 
nature  you  are  inclined  to  be  like  the  first  street, 
sooner  or  later  you  will  cross  "  Craig,"  when 
your  name  will  quickly  change  to  ''  Denis." 

Rube  stops  at  the  Hall, 

I  asked  General  Henry  for  a  good  hotel  to  stop 
at  in  Montreal.  ''  Rube,"  said  he,  "  they  are  all 
good,  but  I've  stopped  for  twenty-five  years  at 
St.  Lawrence  Hall,  and  Hogan  has  treated  me  so 
well  in  all  that  time  that  I  will  possibly  never 
change.  If  you  go  there  don't  fail  to  go  to  Matt's 
table.  Tell  him  I  sent  you  and  he  will  treat  you 
right."  I  went  there,  and  at  dinner  I  told  Matt 
what  the  General  had  said.    "  Was  I  the  Gineral's 

234 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

frind?  Ah  me!"  Matt  didn't  wait  for  the  order, 
he  brought  all  on  the  bill  of  fare,  and  I  could 
wager  he  had  some  extras  added.  Matt's  a 
character,  22  years  a  soldier  in  the  Queen's 
army,  and  20  years  at  the  St.  Lawrence  Hall. 
Everybody  seems  to  know  Matt,  and  all  like  him 
for  his  ready  Irish  wit.  He  was  in  India  during 
the  mutiny.  He  was  at  Delhi,  Lucknow,  and 
all  the  important  engagements  of  that  campaign. 
Matt  is  rich,  or  should  be.  He  has  the  finest 
herd  of 

"  Irish  Bulls," 

I've  ever  run  across.  One  day  Lord  Stevenson's 
brother  Willie  wanted  some  tea,  toast  and  green 
corn,  a  little  late  for  lunch.  Matt  took  the  order, 
but  soon  came  back  with :  "Ah  me,  Mr.  Stevenson, 
the  hat  water  is  too  cald  fur  tay,  the  grane 
corn  is  too  ripe,  but  the  frish  brid  is  sthale,  just 
right  for  the  toast.  Wull  I  bring  ye  a  glahs  of 
swate  milk  wid  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  Matt,  if  it's  not  too  sour." 

Go  to  the  St.  Lawrence  and  tell  Matt  that  you 
are  the  "Gineral's  frind,"  and  you'll  not  forget 
your  stay  at  the  Hall. 

I  returned  to  Quebec  by  the 

CANADIAN  PACIFIC  RAILROAD, 

Say,  if  ever  you  get  the  opportunity,  take  this 
road.       It   runs   from   Quebec   clear  across   the 
235 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Continent — it's  all  right.  Did  I  tell  you  about  the 
Royal  train  that  carried  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Cornwall  and  York  on  their  trip  across  to 
Vancouver  ?  "  No?"  well  it  was  the  finest  one 
I  ever  saw, 

Palace  on  Wheels, 

Well,  I  guess  that  would  fit,  but  I've  seen  few 
palaces  more  beautifully  appointed  than  was  this 
Royal  train.  It  had  every  luxury,  why,  think  of 
it,  it  even  had  a  telephone  system  of  its  own — 
wonderful  train  !  It  was  built  throughout  by 
this  railroad.  It  would  be  a  big  surprise  to  the 
Mother  Country  if  she  could  see  the  vast 
achievements  of  the  up-to-date  railroading  of 
this  young  daughter  of  hers. 


Rube  at  the  Queen's, 

"  While  in  Montreal,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I 
want  you  to  go  down  to  the  Queen's  Hotel,  just 
across  the  street  from  the  Grand  Trunk-New 
York  Central  station,  corner  of  St.  James  and 
Peel  streets.  It's  kept  by  Fuchs  and  Raymond. 
George  Fuchs  was  a  Quebec  boy.  I  never  knew 
him  here,  but  met  him  often  in  Montreal.  You 
know  whenever  the  Quebec  ball  teams  go  over, 
they  always  stop  at  the  Queen's  unless  it  is  so 
crowded  that  they  can't  get  in. 

236 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

''  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  the  elder  Fuchs — 
George's  father  ?  '  No  ?'  Well,  he  was  '  all 
good/  as  they  say.  He  came  to  Quebec  from 
Alsace-Loraine  many,  very  many  years  ago,  at 
a  time  when  there  was  no  French  Consul  in  the 
town.  He  must  have  been  a  '  good  angel,'  to 
many  a  fellow  countryman.  His  house  was  ever 
open  to  the  needy."  A  French  paper,  speaking 
of  Jacques  Fuchs,  said  of  him  at  his  death,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  translate  it — and  I  give  it  as  an 
old-time  Quebec  character  worthy  of  mention, 
and  to  show  the  heart  of  this  people  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century.  "  A  modest  man  has  disap- 
peared. He  had  only  his  heart — this  one — but 
it  was  a  firm  heart,  as  have  all  who  come  from 
Alsace-Loraine.  There  was  no  French  Consul 
in  those  old  days,  and  Jacques  looked  after  his 
people.  He  was  all  over,  helping  the  poor, 
giving  consolation  to  the  needful,  helping  the 
proud  in  poor  circumstances,  v/ith  the  utmost 
delicacy,  without  doubting  in  his  French  faith, 
what  he  was  doing  for  the  old  home.  He  loved 
everyone  who  came  from  France,  and  protected 
them  in  his  own  way.  In  front  of  this  Small  of 
the  Earth,  this  Big  in  the  front  of  God,  we  are 
permitted  to  shout  to  la  Patrie,  Vive  La  France." 

The  writer  of  this  beautiful  tribute  (and  in 
French  it  is  beautiful)  was  Fauchcr  dc  St. 
Maurice.       He    was    one    of    Quebec's    noted 

237 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

writers,  but  like  the  man  of  whom  he  wrote,  he, 
too,  is  dead.  There  is  to  me  a  rare  fascination 
in  the  Hfe  of  a  man  of  heart,  be  he  peasant  or 
king.  It  is  not  the  position,  but  the  character,  I 
love — the  man  and  not  the  title. 

I  flattered  myself  that  the  good  entertainment 
I  received  at  the  Queen's  was  because  the  Colonel 
had  sent  me,  or  that  it  was  because  I  had  said 
nice  truths  about  George's  old  town;  but  I  soon 
found  that  it  was  the  same  nice  treatment 
given  every  guest.  I  saw  then  why  the  Queen's 
was  such  a  favorite  with  my  home  people. 


RUBE  MAY  WRITE  ANOTHER  LETTER, 

T  may  tell  you  more  some  time  of  Montreal, 
but  not  now.  Montreal  is  a  rich  field,  and  I  am 
certain  I  can  find  much  of  interest  for  you  to 
listen  to.  In  the  meantime  look  at  your  map 
and  see  that  it  is  on  an  island  and  has  a  mountain 
all  to  itself.  I  didn't  know  of  either,  and  I'll 
wager  you  didn't  know  it  yourself,  smart  as  you 
are  about  the  great  cities  of  America.  There 
are  a  great  many  things  in  Canada  that  neither 

238 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

of  us  know  about;  but  now  that  I've  gotten 
started,  I'm  going  to  find  them  out,  and  have  a 
good  time,  too,  while  doing  the  finding.  I'm  in 
love  with  the  Dominion,  and  I  want  you  to  know 
her.  I  want  you  to  tell  our  law  makers  that  they 
are  making  one  grand  mistake  in  keeping  up  the 
bars  so  high  that  this  growing  neighbor  cannot 
go  over  to  "  dicker "  with  our  corner  grocery 
store.  Somehow  they  don't  get  the  right  appre- 
ciation of  this  neighbor.  She's  got  ever  so 
much  that  we  want  and  need,  and  would  bring 
it  over,  besides  taking  a  large  pocket  full  of 
money  with  her  to  pay  "  to  boot,"  if  they'd  only 
let  her  in  without  fining  her  so  high  for  coming. 
She  has  to  go  away  across  the  ocean  to  her 
mother's  store  to  trade  for  what  she'd  buy  just 
over  the  line  if  we  gave  her  a  chance  to  come. 
She  does  lots  of  trading,  by  the  way,  more  than 
you  think  for,  more  than  we  do  ourselves  count- 
ing our  size.  Wc  do  $28  per  capita,  while  she 
docs  $y6  per  capita.  This  year  she's  going  to 
do  $400,000,000  wortii  and  that's  why  I  say  our 
law  makers  make  a  grand  mistake  not  to  culti- 
vate her  trade.  As  she  buys  of  us  far  more  than 
we  do  of  her  it  would  be  on  our  side,  and  good 
business  policy,  too,  Wc  will  some  time  have 
what  they  call  reciprocity,  and  my  eyes,  the 
"  dickering"  that  will  go  on  when  that  time 
comes  ! 

239 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 


"  Not  i/iis  morning  Uncle  !  " 

Uncle  Sam: — "Good  mornin'  Miss  Canada  !" 
Miss  Canada  : — ''  Good  mornin'  Uncle  Samuel  !" 
U.S. :— "  Which  way  this  mornin'  ?" 
Miss    C. : — "  Goin'    over   ter   Mother's   store  ter 

dicker  !" 
U.S. : — "  Why  not  come  over  ter  my  store,  I've 

a  big  stock,  and  will  sell  it  right  ?" 
Miss  C. : — "Uncle,  don't  yer  know  I'd  like  ter 

ever  so  much,  but  I've  had  a  leetle  touch 
240 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

o'  rumatiz  o'  late,  and  I  can't  somehow 
climb  like  I  used  ter.  Don't  believe  I 
want  ter  try  ter  git  over  them  air  high 
high  bars  this  mornin' — Good  morn- 
in'  !" 

U.S. : — "  Hold  on,  Miss  Canada — what  yer  want 
fer  that  air  horse,  yer  leadin'  ?" 

Miss  C. : — "  Told  me  at  home  ter  ask  $20,  and  fi 
couldn't  git  that,  ter  take  $15.  What'll 
yer  gi'me  ?" 

U.S.: — "  $12.50  if  yer  bring  him  on  this  side  ther 
fence  !" 

Miss  C. : — "Come  an'  git  him,  an'  yer  may  have 
him  !" 

U.S. — "  No,  bring  him  over  !" 

Miss  C: — '^  All  right  "—but  just  then  Miss  Can- 
ada saw  something  on  that  top  bar  and 
hesitated,  "  No,  Uncle — I  must  hev 
$42.50  fer  this  steed,  horses  has  riz  ! 
Say,  Uncle,  by  the  way,  don't  yer  think 
you  an'  me  could  do  better  if  our  line 
fence  wa'n't  so  high  ?" 

U.S.: — "Why,  my  dear  Miss  Canada,  there's  a 
whole  slew  o'  places  whar  thar  ain't 
no  fence  at  all.  Jist  look  up  thar  whar 
that  hired  man  o'  yourn  is  haulin'  that 
big  load  o'  stuff  thru.  See  he's  got 
on — Postage  Stamps,  Fortified  Lime 
Juice,    Fossils,    Frankfurters.    Balm    o' 

241 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Gilead,  Gold  Coin,  Old  Junk,  Mezuz- 
oths,  Lycopodiums,  Ostensoriums,  Or- 
thotoluidius,  Pozzolani.  Yes,  he's 
goin'  thru,  an'  he  don't  even  hev  to  pay 
a  cent  o'  toll,  either." 
Miss  C: — "  Yer  ferget.  Uncle,  that  day  I  came 
down  with  a  load,  what  yer  charged  me 
ter  git  over.  There  wus  a  fence  that 
day,  Uncle  !  Why,  I  had  to  pay  60 
percent  of  the  value  of  them  artificial 
'  goo  goos '  I  tried  ter  make  at  yer, 
and  the  same  percent  fer  thet  jewellery 
and  arctic  shoes  and  nearly  everything 
I  had  on.  Why,  you  made  me  pay  30 
percent  fer  that  Zeinthaerine,  35  percent 
fer  that  Xylotile,  and  25  percent  fer  that 
Zinnsare,  and  the  same  fer  the  Ylang- 

ylang  oil "     ''  But  nothing  fer  that 

Xeintharine  powder,"  broke  in  Uncle 
Sam,  and  there  they  stood  fer  an  hour, 
Uncle  Sam  throwing  up  to  her  the 
things  that  he  let  her  bring  in  free,  most 
of  which  were  raised  or  made  in  some 
other  country,  and  she  throwing  up  to 
Uncle  Sam  what  he  charged  her  fer 
what  she  raised  or  made  at  home.  She 
finally  drove  on  towards  mother's  store, 
tantalizingly  shaking  a  large  pocket 
book  full  of  "  to  boot "  money  at  Uncle 

242 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

— who  walked  down  street  in  a  deep 
study,  saying  to  himself,  "  I  must  see 
about  gittin'  her  trade.  It's  gittin'  too 
big  to  lose.  I  reckon  them  bars  are  a 
leetle  high." 


I  want  you  to  know  this  great  Dominion — in 
size  but  little  less  in  extent  than  our  own 
country — including  Alaska — and  much  larger 
than  the  United  States  not  counting  that  land 
of  gold, 

Canada  is  a  land  of  beautiful  mountains, 
lakes  and  rivers.  Its  people,  manners  and  cus- 
toms are  too  little  known  even  across  the 
border.  All  of  these  have  so  charmed  me,  and 
filled  my  heart  so  full  of  love  for  the  Canadian 
and  his  country,  that  I  would  have  all  the  world 
know  wnat  real  pleasure  is  lost  in  not  seeing 
and  knowing  them  as  I  have  known  them.  I 
can  only  faintly  draw  the  picture  and  ask  you  to 
come  to  see  the  reality — the  reality  is  pleasing. 


243 


SOUVENIR 

to 

HIS  MAJESTY'S  SHIPS. 

OPHIR.— Picture. 

CRESCENT.— Picture. 

PALLAS.— Picture. 

PSYCHE. 

PROSERPINE.— Picture. 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
HIS  MAJESTY'S  SHIPS. 

When  I  saw  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
various  ships  in  the  harbor,  during  the  Duke  and 
Duchess'  visit,  come  ashore,  I  said  to  the  Colonel 
"  I'm  going  to  get  out  souvenir  editions  for  these 
ships.  Something  that  will  ever  commemorate 
the  occasion."  "  What  can  you  say  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Well,  now,  Colonel,"  said  I,  "  I  could  write 
another  book  on  '  The  Boys  of  the  King's 
Navee,'  and  it  would  be  a  good  one,  too,  if  the 
subject  had  anything  to  do  with  the  writing  of  it, 
for  really.  Colonel,  you  must  admit  that  a  finer 
lot  of  men  you've  never  seen  under  any  flag." 
You  see  our  first  impression  of  these  men  of 
many  seas  was  on  Sunday  morning,  when  they 
were  on  their  way  to  the  various  churches 
throughout  the  city.  ''  Wait  till  the  boys  get 
their  '  land  legs,'  "  said  the  Colonel,  "  and  your 
comment  may  not  be  so  favorable."  I  waited, 
and  having  come  in  contact  with  both  officers  and 
men,  I  am  even  more  pleased  with  them  than 
when  on  their  way  to  church. 

The  Colonel  is  too  much  given  to  taking  the 
other  side  of  things,  and  often  quite  tries  my 
patience.  When  he  said,  "  Oh,  of  course,  your 
souvenir  number  will  be  all  commendation,"  I 
soon  made  him  retract  the  implied  criticism, 
when  I  asked  him  to  point  out  a  thing  said  in  the 
first  edition  that  I  did  not  think  and  feel  was 
249 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

true  when  I  wrote  it,  and  again  when  I  showed 
him  the  blue  pencil  mark  across  certain  bits  of 
commendation  that  I  had  been  pleased  to  cross 
out  for  various  reasons,  (often  simply,  however, 
because  I  felt  that  the  commended  had  not  appre- 
ciated my  intention),  he  could  not  but  admit  my 
honesty  of  expression,  if  nothing  more. 

At  this  time  there  were  in  the  harbor  four 
ships,  others  came  with  the  Ophir,  which 
brought  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Cornwall  and 
York. 

These  four  ships  were:  The  Crescent — the  flag- 
ship— Psyche  (a  picture  of  which  I  failed  to  pro- 
cure, and  which  I  greatly  regret),  the  Prosephine 
and  the  Pallas.  Fm  much  like  the  infidel  on  the 
ocean  steamer,  who  had  been  having  a  long  argu- 
ment with  a  Baptist,  when  a  storm  came  on.  In 
the  midst  of  the  hurricane  the  infidel  was  heard 
praying  most  desperately,  when  the  Baptist  calm- 
ly said  :  "  Why  brother,  I  thought  you  didn't 
believe  in  anything  of  that  sort  ?"  "  Yes,  yes, 
I  know — this  belief  of  mine  is  all  right  on  land, 

but  it's  not  worth  a on  water."    Same  here. 

Now,  if  I'd  try  to  tell  you  what  pretty  things  these 
ships  were,  I'd  spoil  it  sure,  so  will  let  you  see 
for  yourself  by  their  pictures. 

These  ships  were  manned — I  guess  that's  cor- 
rect— or  officered  and  manned — at  any  rate  they 
were  well  somcthinged  by  a  fine  lot  of  men.     If 

250 


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The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

I  don't  get.  them  in  their  correct  order  it  will  be 
no  lack  of  good  intention.  By  courtesy,  of 
course,  I  will  head  the  list  with 


THE  OPHIR, 

6,910  tons.  I.H.P.  10,000.  Particular  Service, 
2nd  Class.  Captain  Alfred  L.  Winslow,  M.V.O., 
Commodore.  Secy.,  Walter  Gask.  Com- 
mander— Rosslyn  E.  Wemyss  (N)  Philip  Nelson- 
Ward.  Lieut.  Wm.  G.  E.  Ruck-Keene,  Lieut. 
Reginald  A.  Norton,  Lieut.  Hon.  Herbert 
Meade,  Lieut.  Coventry  M.  Crichton  Maitland, 
Lieut.  Plon.  Gerald  M.  A.  J.  Hay,  Lieut.  Gerald 
A.  Wells  (in  lieu  of  Sub-Lieut.),  Lieut  ]\Iajor 
R.  M.  Chas.  Clarke,  Lieut.  R.  M.  A.  Geo.  L. 
Raikes,  Lieut.  R.  M.  Henry  H.  F.  Stockley. 
Chaplain— Rev.  Hugh  S.  Wood,  M.A.  Stafif 
Surgeon — Hugh  W.  Macnamara.  Staff  Pay- 
master, Edw.  D.  Hadley.  Sub-Lieut.  John  H. 
Bainbridge,  Sub. -Lieut.  John  B.  Waterlow,  Sub- 
Lieut.  Gerald  L.  Saurin.  Surgeon — Robt.  Hill. 
Ast.  Paymaster — Grenville  A.  Miller.  Senior 
Engineer,  R.N.R. — George  Gray.  Engineer — 
Sydney  M.  G.  Bryer.  Gunner  (T) — Alfred  Tur- 
ton.  Boatswain — John  Paddon.  (S)  Matthew 
Allen.  Carpenter — Wm.  Banbury.  Bandmas- 
ter, R.M.— John  Wright. 


253 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

CRESCENT. 

Twin  Screw  Cruiser,  ist  Class.  7,700  tons. 
I.H.P.  10,000  N.D.  (12,000  F.D.) — Flagship. 
North  American  and  West  Indies  Station. 

Officers  : 

Vice  Admiral  Sir  Frederick  G.  D.  Bedford, 
K.C.B.  Flag-Lieut. — Philip  Stretford,  Secretary, 
— Charles  E.  Byron.  Clerks  to  Secy. — Edgar. 
M.  White,  Arthur  E.  E.  Fluder.  Captain— 
Hon.  Stanley  C.  J.  Colville,  C.B.  Commander — 
Henry  H.  Campbell,  (N)  Owen  F.  Gillett. 
Lieutenants — (T)  Skipworth,  (G)  Henry  R. 
Veale,  Reginald  L.  Crichton,  Lockhart  Leith, 
Leslie  J.  L.  Hammond,  Eric  J.  A.  Fullerton, 
Francis  A.  Marten.  Maj.,  R.M. A.— Alfred  Or- 
ford.  Lieut.,  R.M. — John  G.  Home,  Chaplain 
—Rev.  William  H.  H.  Royse,  B.A.  Fleet 
Surgeon — William  E.  Bennett.  Fleet  Paymas- 
ter— Henry  Dawson.  Fleet  Engineer — John  G. 
Stevens.  Naval  Inst. — Richard  H.  Whapham, 
M.A.  Sub-Lieut. — Longuet  M.  Darbyshire. 
Surgeons  —  Ernest  A.  Penfold,  M.B.,  John 
Boyan.  Assist.  Paym. — Harold  J.  D.  Spriggs. 
Clerk — Eustace  R.  Berne.  Engineer — William 
H.  Pratt.  Asst.  Eng's.— William  R.  Mew,  John 
F.  Bell,  Henry  B.  O'Dougherty.  Gunner  (T)— 
Richard  S  .C.  Staddon,  Henry  F.  Carter.  Boat- 
swains— Charles     S.  Cassidy,     William     Staples. 

254 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

Carpenter— Richard  E.  Peek.  Midshipmen — 
Arthur  Rice,  Hon  Arthur  G.  Coke,  CoHn  S. 
Inghs,  Richard  H.  Falkiner,  George  H.  D'O. 
Lyon,  George  B.  Hartford,  Henry  S.  M.  Harri- 
son, Juhan  M.  Ogilvie,  Walter  N,  Lepage, 
Charles  H.  Michaelson,  Ferdinand  E.  B.  Feil- 
mann,  Bertram  H.  Ramsay,  John  C.  F.  Borrett, 
Charles  F.  Cowan,  William  R.  R.  Leach,  Cun- 
ningham Prior. 

The  following  ofificers  are  borne  as  additional 
for  various  reasons  : — For  Surveying  Service — 
Staff-Captain  William  Tooker.  For  Halifax 
Yard  : — Ch.  Engineer — Charles  G.  Taylor.  Ch. 
Carpenter — Robt.  Bigham.  Boatswain — Joseph 
V.  Lutter. 

Tenders- — Rocket,  Quail. 

H.  M.  S.  PALLAS. 

Twin    Screw    Cruiser,    3rd     Class  ;  2.575  tons. 
I.H.P.,  4,500,  N.D.;  7,500,  F.D. 

Officers  : 

Captain — Hon.  Walter  G.  Stopford.  Lieu- 
tenant— Richard  G.  A.  W.  Stapleton  Cotton, 
Harry  C.  Sterling,  (N)  Basil  J.  Snowdon.  Staff 
Surgeon — Johnson  M.  Acheson.  I\LD.  Pay- 
master— Wm.  E.  R.  Martin.  Chief  Engineer — 
Chas.  B.  Leckey.     Sub-Lieut. — Claude  P.  Cham- 

257 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

pion  de  Crespigny.  Sub-Lieut.  R.X.R. — Dick 
F.  T.  Bruce.  Gunner  (T) — Thos.  Walker.  Car- 
penter— John  Couper.  Artif.  Eng. — James 
H.  D.  Nichols.     Clerk — Knighton  H.  Arnold. 

H.  M.  S.  PSYCHE. 

Twin    Screw     Cruiser,     3rd    Class  ;    2.135  tons. 
I.H.P.,  5,000,  N.D.;  7,000,  F.D. 

Officers  : 

Commander  of  Psyche  (no  Captain) — Edmund 
M.  C.  Cooper-Key,  (N)  Author  S.  Cole.  Lieu- 
tenant— Loftus  C.  O.  Mansergh.  Sub-Lieut. — 
Wm.  H.  Davis,  Staff-Surgeon  —  Geo.  A. 
Waters,  M.D.  Paymaster — Angus  H.  Brigstocke. 
Ast.  Paymaster — Frederick  Hird,  Wm.  G.  How- 
ard. Staff  Engineer — Marin  Stuart.  Ast. 
Engineer — Alfred  Evans.  Gunner  John  D. 
Jamieson.  Robert  E.  Reiss-Smith,  acting.  Car- 
penter— Geo.  D.  Rowe. 

H.  M.  S.  PROSERPINE. 

Is  a  Twin  Screw-  Cruiser,  of  the  3rd  class  ; 
2,135  tons.  I.H.P..  5,000,  N.D. ;  (7,000  F.D.). 
North  American  and  West  Indies  squadron. 

25S 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 
Officers  : 

Commander  —  Gerald  C.  A.  Maresceaux. 
Lieutenants — Robert  W.  F.  Travers,  (M)  Denis 
B.  Crampton,  Robert  Jeffreys,  Trueman  Thom- 
dick.  Staff-Surgeon — John  Lowney.  Paymas- 
ter— Edward  H.  Innes.  Chief  Engineer — James 
T.  Willo.ughby.  Assistant  Engineer — Jonathan 
J.  Sereech.  Assistant  Sub-Lieut.,  R.N.R. — Chas. 
D.  Cay.  Gunner- — Frederick  Blackwell.  Car- 
penter— Thomas  Merriman  (B).  Ast.  Gunner — 
George  H.  Kerswell.  Clerk  —  Charles  M. 
Mieson. 

All  these  ships  may  have  their  Mascots,  and 
no  doubt  have,  but  none  of  them  are  so  much  in 
evidence  as 

THE  PET  OF  THE  PROSERPINE. 

The  Proserpine  has  for  her  "  coat  of  arms,"  not- 
a  lion  raiiil^aiit  on  a  field  of  blue,  but  an  animal 
said  by  many  to  be  quite  as  strong  and  sometimes 
grows  rampant  on  almost  any  field.  He's  a 
whole  coat  of  arms  in  himself,  and  might  be 
likened  to  another,  or,  rather,  to  the  motto  of 
another — "  Strong  by  nature,  he  grows  (more 
so)  by  (too  much)  industry."  Before  he  was 
captured  in  the  wilds  of  North  London,  he  led  a 
precarious  life,  and  while  his  little  house  was  on 
the  conmions,  it  would  hardly  be  proper  to  say 
that  he  was  a  member  of  the  ''  House  of  Coni- 
261 


The  Yankee  in  Quebec. 

mons."  To  say  that  a  mascot  was  in  business 
would  again  not  be  proper,  and  yet  this  "  coat  of 
arms"  did  much  in  "  junk,"  as  well  as  being  a 
member  of  the  paper  trade,  in  which  he  often 
ran  a  corner,  or  anything  else  that  chanced  to 
come  in  his  way.  That's  why  it  was  such  an 
easy  matter  for  him  to  run  the  Proserpine  when 
lie  left  his  house  on  the  Commons,  and  that  he 
does  have  his  own  way  on  board  ship,  no  one 
who  has  seen  the  love  the  whole  crew  have  for 
him,  will  doubt  for  a  minute.  It  is  claimed  that 
before  he  became  identified  with  the  Proserpine 
that  he  served  an  apprenticeship  in  certain  secret 
societies;  but  there  is  nothing  but  a  rumor  to 
substantiate  this  claim,  and  I  pass  it  over.  The 
boys  make  many  other  claims  for  their  mascot, 
among  which  is  that  their  good  ship  has  never 
once  been  sunk  in  battle  during  his  reign  as  a 
mascot;  but  this  also  is  hardly  a  valid  one,  since 
their  ship  has  never  yet  been  in  battle.  So  we'll 
have  to  pass  that  over  also.  I  might  run  on,  and 
give  the  good  qualities  of  this  mascot,  but  few 
there  be  but  know  them  already,  so  will  desist. 

Officers  and  men  of  all  the  ships,  I  want  to  tell 
you,  in  conclusion,  that  you  left  many  friends  in 
Old  Quebec,  and  none  who  will  be  more  glad  to 
meet  you  in  any  port  of  the  world  than, 
Your  Friend, 
THE  YANKEE  IN  QUEBEC.     /  . 

262 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


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